Don't Drink the Water
by kXzEcho
Summary: It's nearing the end of Cartman and his group of friend's senior year, and all they want to do is graduate without being slowed down by any insane incidents South Park is prone to experience. When a viral infection begins to spread in South Park and, shortly, the world, any hope of graduating is shot down forever...(Full Summary Inside) Multiple Pairings, SP AU. Plot Heavy.
1. Cartman's Blessing

**Full Summary: **

_It's nearing the end of Cartman and his group of friend's senior year, and all they want to do is graduate without being slowed down by any perverse incidents South Park is prone to experience. When a viral infection begins to spread in South Park and, shortly, the world, any hope of graduating is shot down forever as society is just about destroyed._

_Anyone overtaken by the virus experiences a deterioration of the mind and body at an alarming rate. To make matters worse, it forces its host to attack, murder, and cannibalize on the living: human or animal._

_All they can do now is flee from South Park indefinitely and survive. Whatever you do, keep calm and don't drink the water._

**Rated M Solely for Language:** No Future Lemons.

**Pairings:** Kyle/Stan, Kenny/Butters, Cartman/Wendy, Craig/Tweek, Token/Wendy, _hinted_ Clyde/Bebe and Damien/Pip.

**AN: **_This story is a lot of fun to write. The fic started as an idea and quickly grew out of control as I kept coming up with scene after scene of what could happen. I've already decided what the ending will be and have figured out the entire lead up to the breakout of the Zombie Apocalypse._

_This is my first time actually attempting to write a South Park fanfic. It was a challenge to get myself prepared and motivated enough to actually write it, because I was fearful of writing the characters wrong and using the incorrect style to write the actual story. After a week of actual planning for both the plot and the characterization of South park all grown up, I decided to give it a shot._

_I'm also a little nervous about the romance aspect of it, seeing as I've never focused too much on the romance aspect of it when writing my usual stories. Let me know how well I did, especially when chapter 2 is finished and released._

_I appreciate any feedback and critique you give. If you do happen to find something that you're unhappy with (whether it's the style or any potential OOCness), don't hesitate to message me, because I want this story to be an enjoyable experience both on my end and yours._

* * *

Chapter One: Cartman's Blessing

"Absolutely not."

"I didn't say anything yet, Cartman."

"It's obvious what you were going to ask, Kinny, and my answer is 'no.' This is going to be at my house, and that means you guys are going to abide by my rules," here he paused briefly in order to force his final textbook into his overstuffed locker. Once this task was accomplished, he slammed his locker shut, turned around to look directly at Kenny, and crossed his arms defiantly with a single brow raised. "And frankly, Butters can spend the rest of his Fridays alone for all I fucking care. Either way, he's not joining us."

Kenny rolled his eyes in exasperation, his eyes being the only visible feature that expressed his intense frustration towards Cartman's words, the rest of which was hidden behind his burnt-orange scarf that was wrapped tightly around his neck and mouth. He mustered up as much authority and conviction as he could into his muffled voice and looked directly into Cartman's cold gaze, "Butters' been hanging out with us for years now and the only thing standing in the way of making him a permanent member of our group is our Friday nights. Face it Cartman, Butters is going to join us sooner or later. You may as well make it tonight."

Cartman sneered, "I don't have to do anything, Kinny. Just because you've got a hard-on for the fag doesn't mean you can just force him on us."

"My horniness aside," Kenny began, eyes wandering towards the opposite end of the hall, a victorious glint suddenly gleaming in his eyes, "I think it's in your best interest to make my blue balls happy in a couple of seconds, fat ass."

"Now why the fuck do you think that-" Cartman cut himself short as his focus turned towards the pair that was quickly closing the distance between them. The scowl that had been previously enveloping his face dissolved and was soon replaced by a cocky smile. His tone of voice changed and its volume increased, which ensured that anyone walking past them could hear exactly what he had to say, "Lucky for you, Kinny, I've decided that you're right. Butters has been hanging out with us for while now; it'd only be selfish of me to prevent him from joining us on our Friday nights. He can come."

If Wendy wasn't paying attention to Cartman before, she was now. She looked away from Token, eyeing him curiously, if not suspiciously. By their senior year, it was well known that these Friday nights were exclusive to only Cartman, Kenny, Stan, and Kyle. No outsiders were allowed to attend. Many had tried, but all of them had failed. Even Wendy, when she'd been dating Stan for the last time back in fifth grade, wasn't allowed to go, and Stan had been attempting to persuade the group for years by then.

"Thanks, dude. I knew you'd pull through," Kenny lightly knocked his fist into Cartman's shoulder.

As soon as Wendy and Token walked out of earshot and Wendy's lingering gaze finally changed its focus back to Token, Cartman's cocky smile morphed back into its previous scowl. He grumbled angrily at Kenny, "You owe me, big time."

"Ah, Ah, Ah, Not so fast. I helped you make Wendy practically wet with curiosity. You're welcome, fat ass," Kenny snickered as Cartman shoved past him, heading towards their next class. After a few moments, Kenny followed him, locking his hands casually behind his back with an air of innocence surrounding him, which was rather ineffective considering only a fool would ever perceive Kenny as innocent, especially when there was an infuriated Cartman stomping ahead of him.

Just as they walked past the threshold of the biology classroom door, the warning bell rang. They were there just in time. Kenny gave a brisk two-finger salute as soon as he saw Kyle and Stan sitting at the front of the room. It wasn't too difficult of a feat to pinpoint their location, seeing as Kyle finally decided to ditch his ushanka back in ninth grade. His vibrant red hair could easily draw anyone's attention, but, unlike his early years, to Kyle's relief, his Jewfro seemed to finally calm down enough so that his curls could frame his face attractively rather than look like someone stuck a red hedge on the top of his head.

Kyle wasn't able to rid himself completely of some sort of permanent fixture on his head. His black metal frame glasses replaced the green ushanka, much to Kyle's dismay, but, hey, Stan thought they made him look hot, so that's a plus. His fashion sense wasn't much to be desired, though. His old orange and green coat was replaced by green sweatervests and white dress shirts. It was too boring for Kenny's taste.

Kenny preferred his orange hoodie, his burnt-red orange scarf, his tattered jeans and the dozens of miscellaneous keychains he liked to hook up to his belt loops compared to Kyle's clothes, thank you very much.

Stan, on the other hand, failed to get rid of his hat. Of course it wasn't the same one that he had worn for most of his life. Seeing as he would grow out of it eventually, Stan had bought a larger version of it in advance as soon as he had come across the same hat sometime around tenth grade. The only difference now was that his hair was long enough so that his black bangs peaked out from underneath it. He also wore blue jeans and a brown sweater. Whenever Kenny went over to Stan's, he usually raided Stan's closet in order to get ahold of one of those sweaters and wear it over his jacket. They were comfy as fuck.

Cartman changed quite a bit over the years. As time wore on, height replaced Cartman's girth, but he was still the fattest kid in his grade. He stood almost six feet tall, a couple of inches taller than Kenny and easily towered over Kyle who was five foot five, but he still hadn't exceeded Stan's height who stood six foot one. Cartman typically wore a red shirt and blue jeans with a black wristband on his right arm and occasionally wore a hat that looked like his old one, but preferred to forget it in the bowels of his dresser.

Instead of sitting next to the three, with Cartman taking his place a desk over, Kenny took his usual seat near the back. With a smirk, he propped his feet up onto the back of the desk chair in front of him and playfully tapped the side of one of his sneakers against Butters' head. Butters, who had been doodling in his notebook, was startled. He turned around to give the perpetrator a look of annoyance, but any animosity he had soon withered away when he noticed just who was the one that decided to bother him.

"H-Hi Kenny."

An easy smile overtook Kenny's face in response to the other blond's greeting. Boy, did Butters look fine. Butters abandoned his old haircut way back when and decided to adopt a haircut similar to Niall Horan's, but not the flipped up version of it, at least that's what Butters told him. Kenny, frankly, had no idea who he was. All he did know was that Butters new look made him horny and that it didn't sacrificing his hair's usual softness.

Butters wasn't much taller than Kyle, which Kenny didn't mind. He could comfortably hug him and hold his hands without a second thought as he was prone to do.

Nowadays, he wore a light blue turtleneck, a checkered belt, and black skinny jeans that framed his perfectly round ass oh so nicely. What he wouldn't give to just put his hands on it.

In one swift motion, Kenny moved his feet back where they belonged and leaned forward with one hand propping his head up. "Hey Butters," Kenny's muffled sing-song voice responded. "Boy, do I have good news for you."

The other blond looked at him curiously and was just about to encourage Kenny to continue, when Mrs. Lipschitz had finished taking attendance, "Class, quiet down now." Initially very few people followed her request, that is, until she decided to smack her ruler as hard as she could on top of the nearest desk, which was, unfortunately, Tweek's. He screamed in fear, jumping in his seat from sheer fright. Mrs. Lipschitz didn't bat an eye, even after Craig gave her a look of annoyance and casually flipped her off.

Mrs. Lipschitz might have been an attractive woman at one point in her long life, but it was obvious that those days were long gone. She always had this sour look on her face as if she had just drunk a bottle of sour milk. She was littered with wrinkles, odd hairs, moles, and warts. She was balding at the front of her head and what hair she had was frizzled and thin. She also had a mustache that would make any prepubescent boy jealous. With looks like hers, it wasn't a surprise that her personality was complete and utter shit.

"Now that I have everyone's attention," she began, "I can begin the documentary that I have in store for today." Almost everybody groaned irritably at that. She played a documentary every day. During it, no one was allowed to talk or do much of anything, really. If she caught anyone speaking, drawing, or handing notes to one another, the culprits were immediately given a detention. No questions asked. "Today we'll be watching '_Viruses: A Threat to Humanity_'-" She was briefly interrupted by another shriek from Tweek. She ignored him once again, "And, like usual, pay close attention to what's being said. This might be on our next quiz." With that, she sat herself down back into the chair, started the video, and promptly began to play Flappy Birds on her smartphone afterwards.

Kenny rolled his eyes at her last statement. That was a load of bullshit. They were never given any quizzes or tests in this class, and he didn't expect her to give one anytime soon. That would mean the old hag actually had to put some effort into this class. He couldn't really complain, though. This class was a slacker class through and through. All he had to do was fill out the occasional worksheet they were given and that was it. An 'A' was pretty much guaranteed.

"_Viruses are tiny particles that are thousands of times smaller than human cells and bacteria. Unlike human cells and bacteria, viruses cannot exist on their own and thus, they require a host cell in order to survive._"

Kenny was barely listening to what was being said. Instead, he decided to risk the threat of Mrs. Lipshitz's wrath. In a moment or two of furious scribbling, he tapped Butters shoulder when Mrs. Lipschitz looked particularly engrossed in her current game. Once Butters' attention had been grabbed, he flashed the folded up piece of paper and handed it to him underneath the desk. Butters studied it carefully, reading Kenny's handwriting with a look of surprise.

It read: _You've got Cartman's blessing to join us tonight. Get ready to pack your things as soon as you get home, because we're staying the night_.

Butters started writing after a moment of contemplation. At the next moment of opportunity, he handed Kenny another note. His neat handwriting was a definite contrast to Kenny's messy scrawl. If Kenny hadn't exchanged dozens of notes with Butters during class, he would have easily mistaken Butters' handwriting for a girl's. _Gosh, Kenny, How'd you manage that?_

When Kenny glanced up, he noticed Mrs. Lipschitz scanning the room for anyone that may be slacking off. He quickly focused his attention on the documentary again and feigned minute interest in what was being said:

"_Viruses, once they've entered the body via nose, mouth, or a break in the skin, can reproduce thousands of new viruses and can quickly spread throughout the body. Once a host has done its job of effectively reproducing new viruses, the virus itself can either break the host cell open, killing the host cell in the process, or pinch out of the cell membrane, which allows the host cell to survive._"

This was boring the hell out of Kenny, but Mrs. Lipschitz continued to stare down the classroom:

"_The immune system responds to this infection by increasing the body's temperature, initiating a fever. This fever slows down the rate of viral reproduction, allowing white blood cells the chance to kill the infection. If a virus is extremely aggressive, however, the immune system won't be effective enough to stave off the infection. The body will succumb to the virus and eventually the host will die. This brings up the question. If a virus is powerful enough, could it threaten the entire human population? In the last year, newly discovered records suggests that near the end of the 14th century, a doctor by the name of Yersinia Pestis unleashed a newly discovered virus in an effort to initiate a sort of apocalypse known now as the Black Death_-"

Mrs. Lipschitz finally looked away from her students and went back to whatever the hell she was doing on her phone. Kenny mentally rejoiced. He wrote up a quick response and handed it to Butters: _Through the powers of puberty. Wendy happened to be walking by when I asked. Cartman's dick told him to finally give in to me. Remind me to personally thank it later tonight ;)_

Butters gave him a nervous glance, most likely due to the last sentence of his response, for whatever reason, but Kenny just waggled his eyebrows, which gave Butters the hint he needed to know that he was just joking. He rolled his eyes, but replied by mouthing a simple "_thanks._"

Before the two could do anything else, a sudden cough drew their attention away from one another. Their gazes locked onto a raised ruler, its worn frame smacking itself harshly against the smartboard. Tweek and a few students that had nearly fallen asleep jumped at Mrs. Lipshitz's actions.

"Stay focused, class. We only have another ten minutes to go through. I won't hesitate to keep those who fail to pay attention to the video after class until they see this entire documentary, again," her old, wrinkled face maintained its look of indifference in response to the unanimous groans of her students.

It shouldn't be too surprising to find out that this was Kenny's least favorite teacher. How she had gotten the job, he'd never know.

* * *

The last ten minutes felt like hours for Butters. A certain torture specifically designed to raise Butters' excitement and anxiety up to an almost unbearable level. The opportunity Kenny had managed to get for him was absolutely amazing, but it was also making Butters a ball of nerves for two reasons: his parents might say 'no' to the whole thing or he would somehow screw up.

He trusted that Kenny would stick by his side through thick and thin, seeing as they'd become practically inseparable over the years, brought together by a combination of rotten circumstances and bi-weekly tutoring sessions. This fact alleviated some of his intense anxiety, but he couldn't help but feel a grain of worry. Just because Kenny wouldn't mind if he did something wrong that didn't mean the others wouldn't, especially Cartman. At this point, he began to knock his knuckles together underneath his desk as these internal feelings began to creep itself towards the forefront of his thoughts.

Cartman didn't like him all too much anymore. In eighth grade, Butters had decided to take a stand and make it clear that he wouldn't blindly follow Cartman whenever he wanted him to help him out in his hair-brained schemes.

The last straw for Butters had been when Cartman had stolen a toddler, given her to Butters and told him to keep an eye on his _niece_ until a day or two passed, only to had almost gotten killed by the kid's crazy parents. He, too, had been convicted of a felony, and had been ultimately grounded for five months because his parents were embarrassed by all of the trouble he had caused. It wasn't until later on, when Cartman was cussing him out for failing to keep her hidden well enough, that he found out the toddler _wasn't_ related to Cartman, that Cartman's plan was to collect the reward money that was sure to come from rescuing a missing toddler that had been kidnapped from a playground.

But that was another story. To put it simply, he wizened up about how disastrous his naivety could be when Cartman decided to take advantage of it.

It was lonely at first, having no other close friends to hang out with and he was, quite frankly, afraid to go anywhere near Cartman for a couple of weeks. He had even resorted to talking to Pip here or there, but he wasn't desperate enough to become friends with him. If he did that, his chance of ever having a social life would be over.

Luckily for Butters, Kenny had approached him back in 9th grade to ask him to tutor him, and things went from there. When Kenny tried incorporating him into the official group, Kyle and Stan didn't seem to have any objections, especially after the whole incident with Cartman still fresh in their minds. And now, four years later, as far as Butters can tell, he was pretty close friends with them all. But would that be enough? Butter's insecurities were catching back up to him again.

Just as Butters was beginning to imagine his parents disapproval of going over to Cartman's house, something he hadn't done in years, he felt something nudge his elbow. Kenny was sneaking him another note. Butters gave a brief glance at Mrs. Lipschitz again, but she was too busy staring down Craig who looked ready to nod off any second now. The evil woman was dead set on ruining someone's day.

Butters unfolded the note, his face slightly flushing with embarrassment at what was written: _I can see that you're doing it again. Stop worrying. This isn't some sort of trial._

Kenny knew his tendencies to question himself and his bothersome self-esteem issues all too well. Butters felt like his mom caught him accidentally putting a can of Campbell's tomato soup on the wrong part of the shelf. He was grateful that Kenny was trying to alleviate his worries, but even he recognized that even though Kenny may be Cartman's right-hand man, and technically Cartman's best friend, he can only do so much to sway Cartman's opinion one way or another.

Butters smiled sheepishly at Kenny, refraining from messing with his hands again. Kenny seemed to return the smile, but there was a note of disbelief in it. Not wanting to risk Mrs. Lipschitz noticing that they weren't paying absolute attention to the credits of the documentary, he turned back towards the screen.

Minutes ticked by before the sweet toll of the the bell rang. School had officially ended. Friday had finally begun.

Just when everyone began gathering their things, the door was slammed shut and Mrs. Lipschitz's grating voice sounded, "Class, you are dismissed. Craig, Clyde, and Pip since you three failed to pay attention in class, you'll have to stay after school and watch it until you do."

"Oh man, you've got to be kidding me," Clyde groaned and slammed his head against his open notebook, doodles littering the pages.

"Yes ma'am," Pip responded with his typical long and outstretched smile, which held no ounce of happiness. He had been caught daydreaming.

Craig, on the other hand, remained asleep, the palm of his hand cradling his head. Mrs. Lipschitz slammed her infamous ruler on his desk, earning herself a quick flip of the bird as soon as he woke up.

Butters and Kenny left in order to catch up with the others.

"God, I thought that'd never end," Stan began, briefly running his hand through his hair in exasperation, pulling off his hat in the process. "I can't tell you how many times I almost passed out."

"I don't know what was worse, the fact that all of their historical facts were complete and utter bullshit or that the narrator sounded awfully like Stephen Hawking," Kyle bit out.

"Speak for yourself, Kahl. Just because you didn't like what they said about the Jews doesn't make them wrong. I for one found the part where the Jews created smallpox in order to prepare for world domination to be particularly enlightening," Cartman sneared. "But then again, I already suspected that."

"Really, Cartman? It was obvious that they pulled all of their historical facts out of their asses," Kyle seethed. "And no way in hell were any of those fucking Anti-Semitic facts true!"

"Dude, how is this any of this different from the other videos she played?" Stan nudged Kyle lightly with his elbow in order to get his attention.

"Because this is the worst video she's played yet. Last week it was a documentary about Darwin's Theory of Evolution, and it was clearly racist. The week before that we played one about the consequences of radiation poisoning and it was trying to convince people that an all out nuclear war wouldn't be such a bad fucking idea. But this week, they were trying to justify Hitler's actions, over what? Some naturally occurring viruses!"

"I-if it's any consolation, Kyle, I don't think anyone was really payin' attention to it anyways," Butters said, finally able to catch up with the group with Kenny at his side who was merely listening with amusement gleaming in his eyes. Kyle gave Butters a small smile, but it was gone a moment later.

"So, Kahl, if you're so convinced that they're wrong, prove it Jew-boy."

"Just open any history textbook, you'll find all of the evidence you need," Kyle raised his arms in frustration.

"And we watched a documentary about viruses, Kahl. Who's to say that that one's not correct?"

"Goddammit, Cartman, the fact of the matter is that their science may be fine-this is a biology documentary afterall- but their history isn't!"

Kenny and Stan could see that Cartman had a retort on the tip of his tongue and knew that they'd never get to leave if that were the case. Stan wrapped his arm around Kyle's shoulders, interrupting the two's argument in its footsteps, "We should probably get going."

"We still have go to Butters' house," Kenny added.

Kyle and Stan looked at them curiously before Kenny grinned, motioning for Butters to speak up, "I-I got Cartman's blessin'."

They broke out into a smile and Stan clapped him on the back, "Sweet, dude."

"What'd you have to do to get that?"

"What do you mean 'what'd he have to do'? Maybe I'm just a good guy, Kahl. Have you ever thought about that?"

They all looked at Cartman with raised brows, clearly unconvinced. Butters just looked away from him with a guilty expression on his face, trying to hide the fact that he agreed with the others.

"'Ey! Screw you guys!"

Kenny snickered as he approached his locker, he pointed a finger conspicuously towards Token and Wendy. Token had his arm around her waist as she and him were talking to a slightly uncomfortable Tweek, probably because his other half wasn't by his side. "If you want your reason, there it is."

"Wendy?" Stan's brows furrowed in confusion.

"She passed by him when I asked."

Comprehension dawned on Stan and Kyle's faces.

This didn't bode well with Cartman, whose face twisted into one of repressed anger and, what could possibly be, embarrassment, "Seriousleh guys? You're going to believe what Kinny says?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Stan raised a brow at him, his backpack and overnight bag in hand. Kenny's muffled laughter was heard briefly before he tried to cover it up with a cough.

Cartman glowered, "It's not too late to retract Butters' invitation."

Butters' eyes widened at this. He knocked his knuckles nervously and asked him with a tinge of fear in his voice, "G-gosh Cartman, you're really gonna kick me out?"

"Unless he wants Wendy to know about this, he's not," Kenny said, his whole body language free of worry.

"I'm not going to forget this anytime soon, Kinny," Cartman warned him.

Kenny patted his cheek affectionately, "And I'm sure you won't, buddy." His hand was smacked harshly from his face.

Stan and Kyle didn't seem perturbed by the exchange between the two; whereas, Butters looked increasingly uncomfortable as time wore on. Cartman's threat hung over his head. This was what he was fearful of: rejection. If that were to occur, Butters wouldn't be devastated, perse-he's been well-acquainted with it long enough for him to not feel too depressed if it were to happen again- if anything, Butters would just feel immense disappointment.

"Everyone set?" Kyle asked as soon as he managed to carry all of his things in such a way that it wouldn't upset his balance. He looked rather odd carrying a backpack, sleeping bag, a suitcase, and a messenger bag, all of which didn't seem to hinder him despite his shorter stature.

Butters then momentarily wondered how Kyle was even able to fit everything in his locker in the first place.

Almost everybody nodded in response, Cartman, on the other hand, just started walking towards the exit which led to South Park High's student parking lot. The others soon followed his leave. As they were attempting to catch up with the long strides of Cartman, Stan had managed to pry Kyle's sleeping bag from him before the redhead could object. After taking the few seconds to adjust his bags, Stan intertwined their fingers together.

Butters spotted Cartman's ride. It was hard to miss the Ford truck with its yellow exterior, massive size, and the fact that it was purposely parked in two parking spaces near the front of the lot.

Everyone but Butters knew exactly where to sit, seeing as Butters typically rode the bus. Cartman took his place in the driver's seat with Kenny calling shotgun after haphazardly tossing his small, extra bag into the back of the truck. Stan and Kyle dropped their things in the back, as well, but with more grace than Kenny's complete disregard for the state of his things. Butters stood awkwardly to the side as this went on, careful to not get in the way of their everyday routine.

"'Ey, Butters, get your ass in gear, I don't have all day!" Cartman yelled, sticking his head out of the vehicle.

Butters attention was grabbed immediately then. He rushed towards the back to stick his backpack in the truck and closed its top cover, giving Cartman a quick, " S-sorry Cartman!"

He then joined Kyle and Stan in the back, claiming the window seat behind Cartman; whereas, Kyle scooted closer to Stan in order to give Butters more room to buckle up before resuming his prior space in the middle of the two.

The first minute or so was relatively silent as Cartman concentrated on getting the hell out of dodge, aiming to escape the congested student parking lot before it reached its peak. Butters, hating the silence, tried to start up a conversation: "So, how're ya fellas doi-"

"Shut the fuck up, Butters."

But, well, then that happened.

* * *

With the truck clear of the parking lot, the silence was finally allowed to be broken: "Has Kinny explained any of the rules to you yet, Butters?" Cartman's searing gaze locked onto Butters' from the rearview mirror of the truck, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

"N-no, not that I know of. I didn't even know you fellas had any rules for these things," Butters responded with a small smile. "But I'm sure I can pick 'em up quickly. I might not be the best at followin' the rules at home cuz there's a lot of 'em and all, but, boy howdy, I'll try my best!" At this point his smile broadened visibly and he raised his chin with some confidence.

Cartman rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh, already regretting giving into Kenny's request. He'd just have to keep reminding himself that his decision served a purpose. It acted as a stepping stone to get him what he desired, and Cartman always made sure he got what he wanted. "Just say 'no' next time."

"Gee, Cartman I-"

He cut him off to stop the long-winded apology Cartman just knew was trying to force its way out of him. He frankly didn't give a damn whether or not Butters felt sorry for something that did _not_ require a goddamn apology. "Since Kinny clearly proved his incompetence _again_, and I was clearly expecting too much from him when money's not on the table-"

"Go fuck yourself, Cartman."

"I'll explain them to you now. Pay absolute attention Butters, I'm not going to repeat myself again.

"Rule number one: I get the final word. I choose the movie, I choose the food, I-goddammit Butters, are you even fucking listening to me?" Cartman snapped, daring to turn his head away from the road to give Butters a look of complete and utter annoyance. This kid was unbelievable. How in the hell did Kenny feel any sort of attraction towards him?

"Keep your eyes on the road, fat ass, I don't want to end up getting whiplash if you fuck up," Kyle berated him, making a shooing-motion with his hands in order to direct his attention to where it's supposed to be.

"I _never_ fuck up when I drive," nevertheless, he decided _on his own_ that it was best that he turned around. Pfft, like he'd ever follow the Jew's instructions.

He swore underneath his breath a second later when he approached a red light. "Well because this light turned out to be an asshole, I have a few extra minutes to tell you some of the rules before we get to your house. What number was I on, again?"

"Still one," Stan said off-handedly, looking outside his window with one palm cradling his chin.

"Okay, _actually_ pay attention this time, Butters, or I won't hesitate to kick you out of my truck right now."

"S-sorry, Cartman. It won't happen, again," Butters stuttered, taking Cartman's threat to heart. Cartman found an ounce of satisfaction in this.

"It better be," he cleared his throat before beginning again. "The first rule is probably the most important rule: no matter what we do, I get the final say. For example, I get to choose what movies we watch. You may wonder why I have that much authoriteh, so let me explain. I own the best stereo system and flat screen TV out of all of us, which means I'm always the one hosting-"

"Not always, sometimes we head over to Kyle's house, but that's only when Cartman's mom has company over. You know, because we all know they'll eventually lounge around, have a few drinks, maybe feed her pussy while they're at it," Kenny said, twirling his finger in the air, his mischievous smile visible now that he'd shed his hood and scarf.

Butters looked at Kenny in confusion, "But why does Ms. Cartman need help feeding her cat?"

"Kinny," warned Cartman, a cold, calculating stare directed itself towards Kenny. He was starting to take things too far.

His friend knew perfectly well that he was getting on his nerves today. For one, Kenny was bringing his mother into the conversation and with this subtext attached, and Kenny knew that he was treading dangerous territory because of it. Secondly, it appeared that Kenny had the upperhand on Cartman. Kenny felt as if he were impervious to Cartman and his wrath. The look he was sending ensured that he'd sent the message across: Kenny shouldn't push his luck. Cartman would think up of a way to get back at him for putting him in such a vulnerable position, and, right now, he was playing around with the idea of 'accidentally' hitting Kenny with his truck. The more damage it caused to him, the more satisfied Cartman would be.

Kenny raised his hands in mock surrender, giving Cartman the signal to continue with the group's agreed upon list of rules, after he started driving again, that is, "Another very important rule is that no one is allowed to invite anyone else without both my and the group's permission."

"S-sorry if I'm interruptin' or anythin', Cartman, but I thought no one was allowed to come at all. I heard from Wendy that you fellas didn't even let her join even though she yelled at ya 'bout it. Does that mean I'm the first one?" Butters asked.

The others nodded simultaneously. Butters looked down at his hands, rubbing his knuckles together nervously, his skin growing red in irritation from the frequent abuse, "Gee fellas, I don't know what ta say."

"Don't let it get to your head. We can kick you out any time we want," Cartman snorted contemptuously.

"Actually, Cartman, rule six states that the only way that a group member can be kicked out is if they break any of the rules we've already established. You were the one who made it up after we kicked you out, because you tried setting Kenny's sleeping bag on fire to get back at us for not wanting to watch 'Passion of the Christ'," Kyle intercepted, not wanting Cartman to concern Butters with blatant lies.

"Doesn't mean we can't change it again."

"We tried to do that before, dude, but then you added rule 7 to make sure rule 6 always stays in effect: 'under no circumstances can rule 6 or 7 be changed'," Stan said with a shrug of his shoulders. "We're not the one who made the rules, fat ass, you did."

Seeing as Cartman couldn't think of a loophole to appease his want for complete control of the situation, at the moment, that is, he begrudgingly accepted his past-self's actions. Actions that had completely disregarded a potential scenario like this. Without another word on his part, he drowned out the idle chatter of his friends with his own perpetuating thoughts as he turned into the driveway of Butters' home.

It was now Butters' parents' turn to determine the fate of their only son, and with whatever fate they chose, Cartman was prepared to reap the benefits.

* * *

The infamous list the girls had made back in fourth grade wasn't the first of its kind, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. By senior year, they had made well over a hundred lists covering a variety of subjects ranging from something innocent to something cruelly judgemental. Unlike when their most notable list had reached the eyes and ears of the boy community, the girls filtered their lists and kept the most damning tucked away in a location none of the male population would ever consider finding it in-or at least that's what the girls' claimed.

One list in particular came to the forefront of Kyle's mind as he stared out the window. It was one that he, Stan, and Token had helped create after the girls' insistence: the top 10 worst parents of South Park. Unbeknownst to Butters, or anyone else but a select few, the Stotch's had made the top of that list. And, by now, Kyle's main group of friends knew just how horrible they treated their one and only son. They've heard plenty of stories from Kenny. As a result, Kyle had concluded long ago that they were scum.

And that is all Kyle could think of when he stood in front of the Stotch residence.

"Let me go in first," Butters began, climbing carefully out of Cartman's truck. "I don't want 'em thinkin' I'm invitin' people over without t-their permission."

"Do you mind if we stick around on the front steps until then?" Stan absently asked, taking a long look at the house's exterior.

Kyle followed his line of vision, a look of disgust flashing across his face. Gaudy lawn ornaments suffocated the neatly trimmed green expanse: gnomes, flamingos, fake mushrooms, fake squirrels, wind chimes, and a bright, plastic bird fountain were placed sporadically throughout the yard. It resembled more of a garden center than a home.

"Nah, I don't mind. Just wait until my cue ta go inside," Butters gave a small smile to the pair before glancing at Kenny who was approaching Cartman. "Isn't Cartman gonna come?"

"Cartman wants to stay in the truck," Kenny said, wrapping his scarf around his mouth again. He pulled his hood over his head as he added, "If push comes to shove, though, we can use him to get your parents to let you come over. Stan and Kyle should be enough, though."

"Because we don't have a criminal record that rivals Charles Manson's?" Kyle pushed his glasses up his nose with a smirk on his lips.

"Exactly," Kenny said, outstretching his arms. He then motioned for Stan and Kyle to gravitate closer to him, and he continued in a much quieter voice, "But make sure to, you know, tone it down a little. You know how his parents can be."

Oh, did Kyle know all too well what Kenny meant. Gossip spread fast in this small, redneck town and the Stotch's were of no exception. It was rumored that Mr. and Mrs. Stotch's relationship was strained by Mr. Stotch's curiosity towards those of the same sex, that and he cheated on his wife due to this unfamiliar lust more than once years back. As a result, they were extremely homophobic. This fact didn't bode well for Butters, because everyone in the school, including Kyle, believed that he was locked deep inside the closet with his parents being the keepers of the key. If Butters so much as demonstrated anything that resembled less than perfect, including his sexuality, then he was immediately grounded.

This was just another reason why they were number one on the list.

He and Stan exchanged a look. Kyle huffed in frustration for matters beyond simply keeping out of arm's reach of his boyfriend's; whereas, Stan merely shrugged, understanding the situation but not looking happy about it, and took a couple of steps away from Kyle in order to remove all possibility for Mr. and Mrs. Stotch to mistake their relationship for what it really was. The Stotch's themselves had their suspicions already, but a confirmation of it would cause them to disallow Butters association with them for the years to come. That was something they wanted to avoid at all costs.

"It's not a problem. Anything else we need to do to help you out, Butters?" Stan asked, shoving his hands into his jean pockets.

"Nothing I can think of, no."

"Sounds good then, lead the way," Stan pulled one of his hands out of his pocket in order to sweep it towards the front steps.

Butters nodded, walking towards his front door. He took a deep breath and changed his posture, attempting to harness as much courage as he was able to.

It was now or never.

He opened the door to his house and the voices of his parents easily traveled to the group: "-don't know what's gotten into them, Linda. Carl, David, and Cindy have been sick for the last few days and a couple hours after they got back, none of them would respond to anything anyone said. In fact, when I tried to get Carl's attention, he bit me. Can you believe that?"

"That's certainly strange. Do you think he might've just been having a bad day?"

"I don't know, Linda. I don't know. All I do know is that my boss is going to hear about this. Carl's lucky it isn't deep enough that I need stitches," the sound of footsteps were quickly approaching the front door. "Is that you, Butters? What have I told you about keeping the door open?"

"S-sorry, dad. We just got here, s-so it wasn't open for t-too long," he gave the man a strained smile before he glanced at his friends behind him for a moment. "Stan, Kyle, and Kenny are here. C-can they come in for a bit?"

Mr. Stotch appeared at the entrance of the doorway just then with a large smile plastered on his face, "Of course they can. Be sure to take your shoes off before you come in. We don't want Linda to have a fit." He chuckled lowly. It was as fake as his smile.

The group entered the room, slipping off their pair of shoes. Kenny tossed his grungy pair of converse to the side, Butters carefully placed his new sneakers in one of the corners by the front entrance, Kyle neatly aligned his loafers against the wall, and Stan piled his pair of tennis shoes in the middle of the front entrance. Kyle gave Kenny and Stan a disapproving look, but said nothing of it.

Butters stood rather awkwardly to the side of the group, rapping his knuckles together in his usual nervous manner, "Um, d-dad, I have a question ta ask ya, if it's okay, that is."

"Of course, son. Thank you for asking."

"I-is it alright if I stay over at K-Kyle's house tonight? T-their parents are gonna be chaperonin' and all, and I promise to keep out of trouble. I finished my homework at school and-"

Mr. Stotch raised his hand, immediately quieting down Butters' increasingly nervous banter. Kyle noticed the bandages wrapped tightly around the raised hand, blood seeping into the white cloth. It must have been what the coworker had bitten. Mr. Stotch smiled vacantly at his son and said, "Of course you can stay over there. Sheila and Linda are good friends, you know. Just be sure to say hello to Gerald and Sheila for us and be on your best behavior, mister, or there will be consequences." They all winced at the sound of Mr. Stotch's empty laughter.

Kyle wasn't surprised by Butters' decision to lie about where he was exactly going. Like Mr. Stotch said, his mom and Butters' mom were good friends. If they were to allow him to stay over at anyone's home, it was Kyle's, and so Kyle made the effort to not reveal the truth of the situation for his sake.

Butters immediately brightened up by that answer, clearly surprised by this decision, "Gee willikers. Thanks, dad!"

"Ha ha, you're welcome, son. It'll be nice to have a night alone with your mother. God knows we need it, " he ruffled Butters' hair, oblivious to Butters' visible flinch at the contact. Mr. Stotch turned away from the two and called out, "Linda, Butters brought some of his friends over."

"Aw, that's wonderful, dear," Linda's voice called from the kitchen. "I'm almost done with the next batch of cookies. There should be just enough here for them to snack on at their sleepover."

An audible "Whoop!" sounded from Kenny, both arms raised in joy.

Kyle had to admit, as much as he couldn't stand the woman, she did bake a mean batch of cookies.

Kenny grabbed one of Butters' hands and began to pull him towards the stairs, "Come on, Butters, we've better get packing before the smell of fresh cookies draws out the fat tub of lard from his cave." He half-hazardly pulled him up the stairs. Mr. Stotch's look of disapproval followed the two until they were out of sight. Once their reverberating steps were the only reminder of their presence, Mr. Stotch turned his attention back to Stan and Kyle who made no move to follow the two.

"So, how are you boys doing this fine evening? Keeping out of trouble, I hope," Mr. Stotch gestured for the two to sit down.

Stan gave the man a strained smile before responding, taking a seat on the left hand side of the couch all the while, "Pretty good. Nothing much's going on, really. Just the usual." As an afterthought he added, "And yeah, we've been keeping out of trouble." He failed to tell Mr. Stotch that they had all participated in Charity or Plungejust last week, which was probably a good idea considering that it looked like the incident had slipped the man's mind.

Kyle and the others had jumped off of a bridge last Friday and landed in a river with their life jackets on. Someone had seen them and misinterpreted what they were doing as some sort of suicide pact and sought for their parents in order to tell them the bad news. Kyle and the others walked in on their own funeral a few hours later, which caused a massive panic throughout the crowd, seeing as they were all proclaimed dead. But that was another story.

"I wish I could say the same for Butters. He's a troublemaker, that boy. He just doesn't know how stay away from it. God knows what the neighbors think. You boys are going to keep a close eye on him and make sure he doesn't make our family look bad, right?"

Sitting on the right side of the couch, ensuring he and Stan weren't directly beside one another, Kyle tried to conceal the rising irritation he felt towards the man. Mr. Stotch had no right to talk like that when he's done so much worse than anything Butters' had ever done. His fists curled subconsciously. Mr. Stotch remained oblivious of his ill feelings towards him, but Stan recognized the signs.

Stan tried to placate him with a warning look, knowing full well how temperamental Kyle could get. Kyle glanced at him before turning his attention back towards the man, "Of course."

"It's good to know that he'll be in good hands. It'll be good for him to be around kids his age with some sensibility in them," Mr. Stotch stared at the two boys expectantly.

"Er, yeah," Stan didn't know what else to say. Both of them really didn't want to agree with anything Mr. Stotch was saying.

Kyle shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Mr. Stotch continued to smile at them with the same lifelessness as before.

"I've finished another batch of cookies," Mrs. Stotch walked in with a massive plate held in her arms. Her left eye twitched slightly when she spotted the three, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. She placed the fine china in front of them and some of the two dozen cookies fell from their fragile perch on the plate and onto the carpet. Her eye twitched with greater intensity at the sight.

Stan helped himself to a cookie, but Kyle refrained from following his example. With his insulin shot and monitor in his backpack inside the back of Cartman's truck, he didn't want to take the risk. The Stotch's continued to stare at him when he made no move to take one. He mentally sighed and grabbed a freshly made cookie, but did nothing further.

This apparently was enough for Mrs. Stotch, because she began walking back towards the kitchen promptly after he accomplished this action, "That other batch should be done in a minute or so. So, I apologize in advance for leaving so suddenly."

Kyle was handing Stan the baked good wordlessly when she said this, prompting him to look up and exchange the same surprised and confused expression. Just _how _many cookies was Butters' mom making?

Kenny and Butters' needed to hurry their asses up, because this was getting to be a bit too much for them to take.

* * *

It always amazed Kenny just how organized Butters' room was. Much like his father, Butters had many collections of miscellaneous things that were grouped together in distinctive patterns, some groupings were even accompanied by small labels. But, unlike Mr. Stotch, these collections were not boring.

On a bulletin board that was hanging just above his desk were dozens of newspaper headlines that summarized every shit storm South Park had ever experienced. Next to his bed was his bookshelf. Amongst the many books that resided on it lied multiple photo albums filled with antique photographs of times long forgotten. Each photo was rather peculiar in its own way, whether it was the subject matter itself or the early days of photo manipulation. Butters liked to write short stories based off of these photos in his spare time, which he kept beside the photo albums. Kenny remembered the nights he stayed over when his mother was having a particularly bad day and his sister was safely at Craig's. Butters read these stories to him into the late of the night when both of them were either tired of messing around on the computer or just wanted to escape from their own reality. In a variety of jars placed neatly beside his bookshelf were small notes, each with a good memory Butters had experienced that day.

Kenny wondered if he was ever mentioned in any of those notes.

"I think we got everythin' I need for the sleepover, " Butters interrupted Kenny's admiration of the room, causing the other blond to turn his attention back to the task they had at hand.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Butters face scrunched up, deep in thought, "Um, at least, at least I think I am.

"Here, let me look," Kenny gently took the list that they recently made from Butters' hands, accidentally brushing his fingers against his as he did so. He raised a brow in curiosity at Butters' reaction. There was a light blush adorning his cheeks.

Well, that was certainly interesting. He'd definitely had to investigate _that_ later.

At the moment, however, they were too busy for him to figure out what was going on in Butters' head.

Kenny began to scan the contents of the list, but he hadn't gone very far before he heard the unmistakable sound of Butters rubbing his knuckles together.

_Not again._

He set aside the list temporarily in preference of lightly gripping Butters' wrists in order to stop the boy from further irritating the skin of his knuckles from the constant abuse. Butters' looked at him sheepishly when he saw Kenny's stern gaze, "You have nothing to worry about, Butters. Like I said, this isn't some sort of trial."

"B-but, what if I break one of the rules? I'm no good at followin' rules. I never have been. Cartman doesn't like me much. Maybe he'll be able ta think of a loophole that can kick me out even if I don't break a rule," Butters explained to Kenny with a nervous glint in his eyes.

Kenny gave him a small smile, releasing his grip on Butters' wrists in order to intertwine their fingers which was not unusual as he sought contact like this with everyone he was close to, "Trust me, you've got Stan, Kyle, and me backing you up. We never let Cartman have his way, and, when we do, it's only because we know it'll bite him in the ass by the end of it."

"Pinkie swear?" Butters slipped one of his hands out from Kenny's grip to present him his pinkie finger.

Kenny chuckled at the childish gesture, but, nevertheless, linked his pinkie with Butters', "Pinkie swear." Butters gave him a small smile. Kenny couldn't tell if it was just his imagination or not, but he could have sworn that Butters hesitated when he released their joined hands. That made a catlike grin overtake his expression, but thoughts of the purity ring incident instantly took it away.

Before Butters could detect the sudden change in his mood, Kenny landed unceremoniously in Butters' desk chair, its hinges groaning under the sudden stress of the added weight. With his hood flipped over his eyes, he held out the previously discarded list to Butters and said, "We've almost packed everything you need."

"Almost? But I thought we got everythin' on the list. What'd we forget?" Butters took hold of the list, sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he scrutinized every word.

"We did get everything on the list, but one key detail. One that I didn't add to the list yet. Any guesses?" Kenny lifted up a corner of his hood so that one of his eyes was peeking out from underneath the orange cloth.

Butters looked around the room with big blue eyes and adopted a thoughtful expression. After a moment or two of contemplation, he shook his head, "Shucks, Kenny, I got nuthin'." Here he held up a hand to count his fingers, "See, we already got all of the things I need ta get ready in the mornin', even a few barettes just in case my hair doesn't want to cooperate tomorrow like it sometimes does, and we packed a few extra blankets alongside my sleeping bag. Gosh, I even brought my snuggie while we were at it, yanno, the light blue one with the penguins all over it. What could possibly be left that I need?"

A small smile adorned Kenny's face, his scarf that he had yet to take off obscured much of the expression and the hood prevented Butters from seeing most of it, but it was there. Kenny found it amusing whenever Butters would unnecessarily go on and on about something. Initially it was rather obnoxious, but, like most habits of his closest friend, he soon thought of it as endearing.

With Butters giving up on the challenge, though not without some effort being applied, Kenny sat up from his stooped position and flipped his hood off of his head. He held up a finger, "One word, Butters: tribute."

Said blond looked at him in confusion, cocking his head slightly with curiosity, "T-tribute?"

He nodded in confirmation, "Yes, Butters, Tribute. See, once upon a long ass time ago, Cartman got really pissed off at all of us for 'mooching' off of him whenever he hosted our Friday nights. In order to prevent him from doing something stupid, like taking us to court to win ownership of all of our stuff or something like that, Stan suggested that we make rule 3: everyone must bring something of value."

"V-value? Like money or jewelry?"

He shook his head, "Not quite. More like something that everyone can appreciate. For example, I usually bring a new videogame I manage to save up for or some of my porn stash." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

Butters didn't bat an eye at the last half of the statement by now used to these types of comments coming from him, "If you do bring something, does Cartman get to keep it?"

Kenny snorted, "Like we'd ever let that fat ass take our shit. Nah, usually if he gets first dibs it's enough to satisfy him."

"Do ya think Cartman will count my mom's cookies as a tribute? She wanted me ta bring some anyways," Butters gave Kenny a small smile as he folded up his list of supplies and put the note in his Chococat toiletry bag.

Kenny stood up from his perch and languidly walked towards his bed in order to pick up Butters' sleeping bag and pillow, putting them under the crook of each of his arms. "It's Cartman we're talking about. It doesn't matter that he isn't as fat as he was when he was a kid, he's still a fat ass at heart." He jerked his head towards the door, "Shall we, Butterscotch?"

Butters nodded and grabbed his toiletry and messenger bag. His hands seemed to be itching to knock against one another, but Butters looked like he was doing all he could to refrain from following through with this action, "I-I'm all set. I've always wondered what you fellas were up to on Friday nights. It's strange ta think that I'll get ta experience it first hand and..."

They took their time walking down the stairs as Butters kept rambling on and on about his excitement for tonight, and Kenny tried his best to stay attentive, but his mind would sometimes wander.

As soon as Kyle and Stan noticed Butters and Kenny, they hastily excused themselves and walked over to the two. Stan whispered, "Thank God you two came, Mr. Stotch was going to show us the Stotch family portraits-er, no offense Butters."

"Don't worry, Stan, none taken. I never liked 'em much either, to be honest," Butters smile looked rather forced, which Kenny thought understandable.

Every year, the Stotch family would take a cheesy family portrait. Butters was taught that it was tradition; whereas, Kenny thought it was just because the Stotch's wanted to keep up the appearance that they were a happy family. Everytime the three tried to get a picture taken, however, there was the tendency that something horribly went wrong for one or all of them. The worst incident involved a clown, a pedophile, and a puppet, but that was another story.

**HONK!**

The sudden noise caught the whole group's attention as the irritating sound of Cartman continuously pounding on the truck's horn reverberated throughout the room.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation and Kenny heard Kyle grumble something along the lines of "you gotta be kidding me." Butters looked at his father with worry as it soon became apparent that Cartman's actions weren't ceasing. Kenny figured it probably wouldn't until they all hauled ass and got into his truck.

Kenny was quick to grab Stan and Kyle's attention, seeing as he was never good with getting on an adult's good side, for their help. Stan removed his hand from its perch and turned towards Mr. Stotch with an apologetic smile on his face, "Sorry about the noise, Mr. Stotch. Cartman's just getting impatient."

"He can't help acting like this," Kyle added. "He's mentally challenged."

Mr. Stotch's piercing stare unnerved the four, but his stern expression soon transitioned into a feigned smile, "It's all right boys, I completely understand. It's good of you to befriend people like him, but I'd like it if you would get him to quiet down. Linda's been under a lot of stress lately and I don't think this is helping." Stan and Kyle took it as their cue to roll up their sleeves and deal with Cartman.

He then directed his sole attention on Butters, "Lucky for you, your mother and I are looking forward to our night together without having to worry about you and your mischief, so I'll let this slide for once." He picked the plastic tub full of chocolate chip cookies off of the table and walked towards the the two, handing them to Butters. "Now go before I change my mind."

"Y-yes, s-sir."

Kenny gave the man a cold look as they passed by, but his hoodie and scarf hid the expression.

When Butters was out of his father's view, he finally dared to express his happiness over the final results of their visit to the Stotch household. This was because he no longer ran the risk of being grounded for 'making a funny face.'

Wordlessly, they collected their shoes once they reached the front door and slipped them on, but not bothering to tie the laces.

"B-bye, dad!" Butters waved to him timidly.

"Bye, son. Remember, if you do anything wrong, I'll be the first to find out," his smile sent shivers down Kenny's spine.

Despite the animosity he felt towards Mr. Stotch, he was sure to give a muffled goodbye.

Once clearing the porch, Kenny was perfectly prepared to hear Cartman's bitching. Butters', on the otherhand, almost dropped his things when Cartman suddenly asked irritably out the window, "What the fuck took you so long? I've been waiting here for at least twenty minutes!"

Kenny smiled wickedly at that. The gears in his brain quickly turned as he put the sleeping bag and pillow into the back of the truck. Once he finished, he walked up to the window of the passenger seat, which was halfway open, and rested his elbows on it, "Butters and I were a little busy in the bedroom." He gave Cartman a wink, "I'd say sorry, but you all know that I don't like to lie." With the flutter of his eyes, he finally added, "Care for the juicy details of our adventures as anal explorers?"

Cartman leaned back against his seat as he folded his arms with a brow raised, clearly unimpressed with his response.

"Well, I wouldn't really count what we did as explorin', Kenny," Butters added innocently as he climbed into the backseat of the truck.

Kenny took this as his cue to reclaim his rightful place at shotgun with his smirk widening. He glanced at the backseat of the truck noticing Butters' obliviousness to his implications and his friends' amusement. This was bound to get Cartman going.

"Please tell me you aren't being serious right now," Cartman shifted his body in such a way so that he looked at said boy properly, which was a difficult feat what with his heavy build.

"What?"

"You can't really be that fucking clueless."

"Come on Butters, tell them how I traversed into uncharted territory. A base where no man or woman has ever gone before," Kenny was having a difficult time keeping composure and it seemed the same could be said for Stan and Kyle.

Sometimes Butters' innocence was absolutely adorable. This was middle school humor, for God's sake, not some of the advanced shit he could duel out when given the right opportunity. Yet, Butters' couldn't put the pieces together for what he was implying.

"But Kenny, you go inta my room all of the time. My mom and dad also can come in and out of it whenever they want to, too. In fact, even Cartman, Bebe, and Wendy have gone in there more than once. And more people'd be allowed ta come if they didn't say 'no' ta my invite and-"

Sudden laughter drowned out the rest of what Butters was going to say. Kenny, Stan, and Kyle weren't able to hold in their amusement any longer, especially when Cartman looked, understandably, angrier and angrier as his disbelief over Butters' naivety grew after every word his peer said.

Said peer stared helplessly at the others, confusion written all over his face, "I-I don't understand why people visitin' me is so funny. Is it cuz my parents like to check up on me or interrupt what we're doin' or occasionally join in-"

"Butters."

"Y-yeah, C-Cartman?"

"Shut your damn mouth."

* * *

On the outskirts of South Park, a silent figure surveyed the daily activities of the townsfolk. His cold gaze observed the chaos brewing amongst its masses, all of which were oblivious to the danger that was drawing near.

All of them were like a flock of sheep being herded into a slaughterhouse: ignorant of their upcoming demise.

It wouldn't be long now.

* * *

**AN: **_I want to warn you that the the lead up to the Zombie Apocalypse will be similar to the manga series "I am a Hero", meaning it'll be a slow but necessary lead up to it, but once shit hits the fan, chaos quickly ensues._

_Also, after Chapter 5, the chapters should become much shorter, which will allow for quicker updates. I just have lot of events I need to get through before I can narrow down what's in each chapter._

_(Spoiler: the Expected Due Date of the apocalypse will be by the end of Chapter 3)_


	2. Their Last Friday Night

**AN**_: Thanks so much for all of the feedback and comments I've gotten! I want to give the heads up that typically I post an update for the chapters faster on AO3 than fanfiction._

_This chapter was a struggle at certain parts due to writer's block, but I'm really happy with the results. You'll have to let me know what you think and don't be afraid to point out something you're unhappy with. Like I said before, I want to make this fic an enjoyable experience for both you and I. ;)_

_On another note, I've planned out some illustrations I'm going to draw for the story and I'm beginning to draw all of the character designs for the main characters, as well. Again, they can be formatted into the actual story on AO3, so you'll see some of the pictures I've drawn there (except for the character designs)._

_They can be found on my new art tumblr page whose URL name begins with Binary-Echo_

**_Side Note: Some words might have not copied properly. Let me know if any of the songs seem to be cut short for no reason_.**

* * *

Chapter Two: Their Last Friday Night

Stan can still remember the days when he and Wendy had been dating on and off back in elementary school. It had always started out wonderful. They would fall for one another during the intervals they were broken up and once they got together again, the first few weeks were great. But, after while, their relationship always went south. Jealousy and lack of trust interfered. Most of the time, Stan thought she was either cheating on him or losing interest in him while she would get jealous of how much time he spent with his super best friend, Kyle. Although he never admitted it to her, he knew she had figured out that Kyle's needs always went before hers.

You have those two factors coupled with the fact that he'd been diagnosed with aspergers and later depression, it was obvious that their relationship was bound to fail in the end. So before their greatest falling out could inevitably destroy anything they once shared, they mutually agreed to break up once and for all. Although they no longer held feelings for one another, and Kyle later on took her place while Token replaced Stan, no hard feelings were given. Against all odds, they somehow remained relatively close friends.

Before all of this played out, however, halfway through fourth grade, when he and Wendy were starting to get on one another's nerves again, Wendy had continually pestered him to try and get the others to let her join in on their Friday nights. Of course, he only asked the group because of her nagging. He really didn't care whether or not she went at that point so long as she stopped bugging him about it.

Predictably, whenever Stan asked Cartman, he made a show of just laughing in his face. When Wendy approached Cartman, he proceeded to laugh in her face, too. Of course, this made her pissed, but what did she expect: instant acceptance? This was Cartman she was dealing with. Only a fool would think it'd be that easy, and Wendy's not a fool. She was just stubborn.

This repeated for almost a year, and every single person in the group, this included Kyle and Kenny, too, had declined her request. Kenny, on the other hand, had only been attempting to get the group, or more specifically Cartman, for about a month now, if not more, to give Butters an invitation. Somehow, he had miraculously gotten fatass, of all people, to say yes.

Stan shouldn't be too surprised, really. From what Kenny hinted at, he had taken advantage of the situation to get his desired answer, and, coupled with the fact that Kenny was still technically Cartman's best friend, if anyone could get him to relent, it would be him. Kenny was the only one out of the group that usually went along with Cartman and his antics for the most part nowadays. Kyle and Stan tried their best not to get involved unless it was absolutely necessary and Butters was tossed out of Cartman's line of fire a long time ago.

Stan wasn't mad or anything. He just hoped Kenny didn't push his luck too much. Kenny was known to be a bit too cocky for his own good. Sometimes Stan wondered how he hadn't died an early death yet after some of the shit he's tried to pull.

As for Butters, he didn't have any doubt that the kid would fit in with their Friday nights. As far as he could tell, he'd been apart of the gang not long after Kenny's dad died. Although he wasn't very close to Stan, he didn't dislike his company, which is saying a lot nowadays. Stan might not be as negative as he was as a kid, but he was still more cynical and less tolerant of things than most.

He was jarred out of his thoughts when Kyle bumped shoulders against his just as Cartman drove his truck onto Cartman's driveway, which really wasn't that long of a ride if he thought about it. Both Cartman and Butters lived on the same street.

Without missing a beat, both he, Kyle, and Kenny left the vehicle in order to retrieve their luggage; whereas, Cartman entered his home without a second glance at all of them. He was probably too impatient to wait up for them. Whatever. It didn't matter whether he was there or not when the remaining group got their shit together.

A big grin lit up Stan's features as he fell into step with Kyle towards where their luggage was at.

"Any guesses on what the movie will be this time?" Kyle asked as they pried open the back of the truck and began grabbing their stuff.

"I have no clue, but whatever it is, I hope it isn't shit," Stan responded once he had everything in tow. Without a second thought, he added, "But with fatass, you never know."

With everything in hand, they started making their way towards the front door. Stan momentarily glanced back towards the other two, noticing that they weren't right behind them. Butters was still in the car, just watching them with a look of nervous disbelief on his face while Kenny began to shed his hoodie and scarf, revealing his mischievous smile. Kyle called out to the two, "Don't make us wait too long."

"Yes, mom," Kenny laughed before pulling something out of his pocket. He waved it frantically in the air in order to catch Kyle's attention as he added, "And don't worry, we'll use protection!"

Stan could hear a muffled, "K-Kenny! You shouldn't say t-things like that ta Kyle and Stan!"

"It's okay, Butters. Mom and dad don't care," Kenny's crooked grin extended further once Butters fully emerged from the truck. Butters cheeks were flushed and his entire demeanor reeked of embarrassment. Stan could tell Kenny was shamelessly checking Butters out, his eyes lingering towards Butters' crotch, which Stan really didn't want to picture the images that were probably going through Kenny's head.

Kyle rolled his eyes at the two of them, "Just make sure you two don't make a scene, we don't want Mr. Swett to having another heart attack."

Mr. Swett was Cartman's neighbour. He usually sat out on his front porch most of the day just watching as the world passed by him. He was an old man in his late sixties who, ironically, sweated uncontrollably. He, too, was a large man whose weight and unhealthy diet caused him to suffer what he called 'the big one' once every year.

"Better sooner than later is what I always say," Kenny laughed. "Hey!"

Butters had smacked the back of Kenny's head lightly in reprimandation, "Now Kenny, t-that's no way ta talk about Mr. Swett when he's not here."/p

"But when he's here?"

Butters looked at him blankly, puzzled for a second before saying confidently, "It's still not a nice thing ta say, but at least it's not behind his back."

Kenny offered him his messenger bag and the Tupperware container full of his mom's cookies while he kept Butters' sleeping bag and pillow to bring in himself, "You're fucking adorable, you know that?" He patted Butters cheek in an affectionate manner before walking inside. Stan and Kyle followed shortly after him. Unlike last time, Stan hadn't been fast enough to get any of Kyle's luggage and so he wasn't allowed to carry anything for him. Kyle's stubborn like that. Stan knew Kyle was fully capable of bringing it in on his own, he just liked helping him when he could.

The sight of Cartman patiently waiting on his large living room sofa with a can of Diet Double Dew in hand greeted them as soon as they walked through the door. He looked like he was trying to give off the air that he was like a king, but it came off more like an asshole with a superiority complex. But what else did Stan really expect coming from Cartman?

Apparently a lot less than his friend was capable of, because Cartman was at least considerate enough to get them some of their own cans of soda. Everyone grabbed a can from the table. Stan opened a Coca Cola, Kyle some Diet Coke, Kenny some cream soda, and Butters a Squirt. Stan took a swig before setting it back down on the table followed by everyone else but Kenny, who kept holding on to it.

"Okay guys, you know what to do," Cartman held up his drink in a mock toast, swirling its contents just for show. "I'm not going to wait here all day for you four to get your asses in gear. Stan and Kyle, you two get the pillows, Kenny gets the blankets, and Butters gets the snacks. Butters, don't you dare choose anything healthy or else I won't hesitate to kick your ass. "

"Y-yes, sir!" Butters gave Cartman a mock salute. He then laid his things down beside everyone else's luggage and was just about to head towards the kitchen before a cough from Cartman drew his attention.

"Not so fast, Butters. Before you start doing anything, there's an admission fee you still have to pay," Cartman leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms while still holding onto the soda can.

'_Great_', Stan thought bitterly as he, Kyle, and Kenny started going through their bags to find what they brought. Even though Stan was the one who had come up with it, it didn't mean he liked it one bit. A sudden realization dawned on him: the group failed to tell Butters about rule number 3. This wasn't going to end well.

"I-is this about rule number 3?" Stan raised his head, looking over towards Butter. So it looked like he was aware of it. That was a relief./p

"Kenny told you, huh?" Cartman asked.

"Which is probably a good thing since you'd pull a bitch fit if he hadn't brought anything," Kyle muttered underneath his breath, which Cartman pointedly ignored.

"Then that means we can just get to the point," he set down the soda can and held his hands out. "Okay fags, pay up."

Stan sighed before pulling out a plastic bag that was shoved underneath his pajama bottoms in his backpack and halfheartedly tossed it at Cartman's head, earning him an annoyed "ey!" in response. When Cartman recovered, he greedily opened the bag to admire its contents, "Australian licorice, huh?"

"Yep. Kyle and I get them all of the time," Stan raised a brow, his jaw tense. He didn't want a repeat of last week. "So, do you approve?"

Cartman looked up at him with a sneer, "They aren't Red Vines."

"No, they're not. They're better."

Cartman opened the bag and popped a piece in his mouth. Cartman carefully thought it over as he chewed before finally grunting, "I don't know about that, but it's better than that Twizzler shit you tried pulling last time. You can stay."

Relief filled him. Last time Cartman had kicked him out of his house for offering it to him as tribute. Of course Kyle left, too and they stayed over at his house instead, but it still didn't make it any less annoying and disappointing that their Friday was partially ruined by something so stupid. Still, he couldn't resist adding, "How was I supposed to know that you can't stand Twizzlers? You eat practically anything that has a calorie in it."

"Ey! I have standards!"

"Could'a fooled us," Kenny laughed as he handed Cartman a CD case. "Here you go, you're very own pirated copy of The Game of Thrones' latest season, specially downloaded from your local library. Let's just say the MPAA aren't too happy with them for some illegal activity a visitor got away with."

"HD or standard def?"

"HD."

A wicked grin enveloped Cartman's face. His expression was reminiscent of a child on Christmas day, "I knew you were my best friend for some reason."

He got up to put the CD case alongside the many other pirated copies Kenny had given him over the years. He turned his attention back to Kenny and reminded him, "You still owe me for that microwave."

"A McCormick always pays their debts," Kenny swirled the contents of his cream soda, "but it takes time and patience."

"The latter of which Fatass doesn't have," Kyle added.

"'Ey, I've waited a month so far, Kahl. Give credit where credits due," Cartman huffed.

Stan had to give him that. The most Cartman's done that could be described as impatient was ask that question to Kenny everyday, otherwise, as far as Stan knows, he's been pretty reasonable about the whole thing. There haven't been any mentions of a stupid and insane idea Cartman thought of to speed up the process, such as freezing himself in order to avoid the whole waiting thing. Stan still remembered when Cartman first pitched the idea to them way back in elementary school. Stan still thought it was a stupid idea that would have just killed him rather than anything.

"W-why does Kenny owe Cartman a new microwave?" Butters asked suddenly, brows furrowed in confusion.

Stan figured he may as well say it. He turned to him and held up four fingers, "Rule number 4: Kenny, under no circumstances, is allowed in the kitchen." He put down his hand, "Fight him off if you have to. He nearly burnt down the house last time we let him have free reign."

"That's because Kenny right here," Kyle put his hand on Kenny's shoulder whom was donning an innocent expression on his face, "has absolutely no patience for cooking."

"He thought that microwaving a metal pot filled with fucking macaroni would make it cook faster. Before I knew it, the microwave was on fire and it practically exploded. Kinny isn't allowed anywhere near there anymore and he owes me a new microwave," his eyes narrowed slightly at said blond. "If you have to, don't hesitate to to force him out. Violence is encouraged."

Stan really couldn't blame Kenny for the incident. The kid grew up on Pop Tarts and Hot Pockets all of his life. He had little to no exposure when it came to physics and rules in the kitchen. Stan couldn't argue with the rule, though. It's probably for the best that Kenny has no remaining access to the toaster, oven, or stove top.

Kyle handed over the next item of tribute. It was something he brought regularly that Stan and Kenny absolutely loved: Super Smash Brothers Brawl, the king of Wii games. Cartman, however, didn't look impressed. It wasn't because he didn't like the game, it was because whenever he played against them all, he almost always lost. Usually he forced everyone to stop after losing so many times. After the first couple of times that happened, Stan and the others figured they'd let him win once in awhile so they wouldn't have to deal with Cartman whining about how they were all cheating or ganging up on him.

Carman tossed it on the table, knowing that if he were to say "no" to it, the others would put their foot down. He tried pulling that once months ago and it got ugly. Stan's pretty sure Kyle kept bringing the game just to spite Cartman.

"Butters, since you knew about the rule, you should have an item of tribute," it wasn't a question. Cartman fully expected him to have something ready. It's a good thing that Butters' crazy mom gave him a giant thing of cookies. Which reminded him, Stan should seriously ask Butters how many batches of cookies she was planning to make and if they were either for home, for work, or just her freaking out for some reason.

Cartman looked surprised by the tub and didn't hesitate to reach in and steal a bite in order to taste it. Butters looked extremely nervous, which wasn't unusual whenever he was around Cartman nowadays.

While still chewing the cookie, he said, "I'm impressed Butters, these are actually something else. You can stay."

Butters smile reached ear to ear at that. He clasped his hands together and said cheerfully, "By golly, really? Thanks Cartman! If you want, I can make us some chocolate chip muffins next week. I found an old recipe book in the basement when my parents had me clean it out a couple of weeks ago. It was written by Great-Grandma Gertrude and-"

"Yeah, yeah. Sounds great, Butters," Cartman waved the rest of what Butters was going to say off. He grabbed another cookie.

Stan was now very happy that Butters was able to join their whole charade.

Everyone knew Butters was an excellent baker. It was practically genetic in his family. With every generation, the next baker born was better than the one before. If his mom's cookies kicked ass, than these would be the best damn muffins Stan's ever had.

"You guys are dismissed."

Stan exchanged looks with Kyle before they headed towards the first of the many places filled to the brim with the pillows they were told to get. He nudged shoulders with Kyle, "This time, do you want to collect and I hold all the pillows."

"Sure, why not."

* * *

Sometimes it felt like his height was making a mockery of itself. Kyle's fingers sought for the edge of the pillow. His fingertips brushed against its floral fabric, but Kyle wasn't able to get enough of a grip to grab it, even when he was standing on his tip toes. It was just out of his reach. He huffed in frustration, pointedly ignoring the pleasant hum coming from Stan.

Kyle could have sworn the pillows just last week were placed on a shelf lower than it was at the moment. Now the contents of the shelf he was thinking of were replaced with extra towels while the pillows were left to rot at the very top. Cartman probably noticed that Stan and Kyle interchanged between the role of collecting the pillows from the shelves and bedrooms and the role of carrying them to the living room. Fatass probably messed with the shelves just to give Kyle a hard time. Kyle wouldn't admit defeat though. He wouldn't let the fatass get the best of him.

After a few more meager attempts, Kyle began to ground his teeth in frustration. A sudden cough drew his attention. He turned around, crossing his arms with a small frown enveloping his expression. Stan smiled at him sheepishly behind the load of pillows he was carrying and asked, "Want me to get those?"

"No, I've got it," Kyle bit out as his cheeks reddened in embarrassment. He didn't want to admit that he needed help, especially when he was so close to overcoming Cartman's ploy. All he needed to do was slowly draw the pillow out by hopping a few times and quickly flicking his hand behind it.

After a few more attempts, there was still no luck.

Just as he was about to swear in frustration at his inability to solve the problem, he felt soft lips press against the back of his neck as warm arms enveloped his middle. Heat rushed to his cheeks as Stan began to kiss a tender spot behind his ear. Kyle tilted his head to the side. All frustration was soon replaced with want and arousal.

Against his better judgement, Kyle turned around and returned the kiss. He began it softly, brushing his lips against Stan's in a series of light kisses before he deepened it, moving his lips in rhythmic movements in response to Stan's happy hum. Stan teased his bottom lip, encouraging Kyle to open his mouth and allow Stan's tongue entrance.

A sudden realization dawned on Kyle as Stan was pulling his right arm down from above Kyle's head. Stan was grabbing the pillows for him while Kyle was a little...preoccupied. He drew back his head far enough to mutter an annoyed "bastard" before continuing where they left off.

Stan just smiled like an idiot into the kiss as he dropped the pillow on the ground in preference of running a hand through Kyle's curly hair.

After a few minutes of kissing one another in the hallway, Kyle heard the sound of footsteps quickly approaching them. Before they could properly pull themselves away from one another, Kenny put something in Stan's back pocket before patting his ass while saying, "I think you two might need this more than I do." He snickered as he readjusted the pile of blankets he was carrying.

Stan grabbed whatever it was that had been put into his pocket with a look of annoyance on his face, before it was replaced with sheer mortification. In his hand was a packet of condoms, the exact ones Kenny was proudly waving at them outside Cartman's house. Kyle turned his head towards Kenny, folded his arms, and asked, "Really, Kenny?"

Kenny turned around without halting in his path and said, "You guys looked like you were just about to fuck each other right in the hallway. What did you expect me to do?"

A loud and strangled "what!" came from the living room. No doubt it was from Cartman.

Kyle sighed. With the moment between him and Stan lost, he jerked his head towards the hallway that led to the living room, "We probably should head back before fatass gets an aneurysm of some sort over there."

After fixing up their now slightly disheveled appearance, they grabbed all of the pillows they had gathered throughout the house and followed Kenny's path back to the living room. They were met with Cartman's look of disapproval, no doubt from Kenny's loud overexaggerated announcement of Kyle and Stan's latest… activities. Kyle was still irritated at him about that.

Butters suddenly burst through the room, breaking any tension that had begun to develop between all of them over what wasn't being said. He had come in with all smiles and an armful of snacks. He carefully spread the contents on the table, mindful of the open soda cans. "I got all of the snacks you have: Cheesy Poofs, Doritos, Peachy O's, Midnight Milky Way, Chex Mix for Kyle, some MMs-"

"We can see that, Butters," Cartman interrupted with no real malice in his voice. Kyle could tell he, quite frankly, just wanted to stop Butters from listing everything he brought when they could all recognize it in a glance.

Speaking of which, "Where's the popcorn?"

Butters looked at them sheepishly and looked like he was resisting the urge to rub his knuckles together, "W-well, that's the thing. I-I couldn't find any."

Cartman stood up at that. He pulled out his phone and quickly punched in a number-most likely his mom, knowing him. After a ring or two, Kyle could make out a woman's voice. "Yeah, mom, we're fine," Cartman huffed. "Look I-mom, you don't need to. Mom! Are you even listening to me, I'm….yes. Ugh. Yes, I know that already. I- MOM, did you remember to get us popcorn?!"

Kyle was stifling a snicker throughout the exchange, in fact, most of them were.

"Well, why didn't you buy some if you knew we were out?... You thought we'd manage without it? But mom, it's a manover for fuck's sake," Cartman sighed dramatically, clearly frustrated but mumbled a moment later into the phone, "It's okay mom, I understand that you were busy. I- Fine. Where is it?... Thanks mom-Yes. Ugh. I love you, too. Bye," Cartman put his phone back in his pocket, looking a little disgruntled.

"Any luck?" Stan asked as he began arranging the mountain of pillows in preparation of the movie they were going to play in a bit.

"Mom left us some cash just in case we need it. One or two of us will have to run over to the Cash and Dash and buy some," he said, heading towards the kitchen to, no doubt, grab the money Liane had left.

Kyle raised a brow at Cartman and asked him, slightly bemused, "Do we really need popcorn for the movie, though? I mean look at all of the shit you have here. We can practically feed the entire country of Africa and still have leftovers."

"Just for that Kyle, you're going to get the popcorn."

Kyle breathed out in frustration. _Of course_.

Cartman turned his attention towards Kenny, "Kenny, you go, too. I don't trust the Jew enough with this task. He'd probably get some shitty knock-off brand if we left him to his own devices, and if Stan or Butters went along instead, he'd probably get them to go along with his shit." Cartman was right to distrust Kyle. He'd do just that if Cartman hadn't already predicted it.

"Why don't you get off your fat ass and come and get it yourself?" Kyle crossed his arms and calmly raised a brow in protests.

"Because Kahl," Cartman began like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Craig works weekends at the Cash and Dash."

_Oh._ Right. Kyle had almost forgotten about the deal Cartman had struck up with Craig: if Craig helped Cartman choose the best movie for them to watch every Friday, Cartman promised to not get him involved with whatever the group had planned as a result of it.

"Come on Kenny, let's just go get the damn popcorn and be done with it," Kyle turned around and grabbed his shoes, already hating the time that they were wasting in order to please Jabba the Hutt.

* * *

The Cash and Dash was a concrete gas station built not too far from Cartman's house and was owned by Lyle Strokes, a middle-aged man with vicious temper and an unforgiving heart. Although the Cash and Dash didn't have much to offer in terms of products, it covered the bare essentials and the inside was relatively clean. Overall, it wasn't too shabby of a place.

When the glass door was pushed open, a bell rang signifying Kyle and Kenny's arrival. Its sweet toll raised the attention of the Cash and Dash's only present employee, Craig Tucker, and, as a result, pulled his gaze away from his Red Racer comic book for a split second. Upon realizing who the two customers were, he casually flipped them off before returning to his comic book.

"Hello to you, too, Craigifer," Kenny teased. He snickered when he earned himself another flip of the bird.

"What do you want?"

"A blowjob would be nice, but we both know who you're saving that for," Kenny responded cheekily. He was given another show of Craig's middle finger. Three and counting.

Kenny briefly wondered if he could make a record here if he kept at it. If he remembered correctly, his record was twenty-three in a span of two minutes.

"Don't worry, we're just here for some popcorn. Which is in…?" Kyle asked Craig, blatantly ignoring Kenny's behaviour. He most likely didn't want to encourage him any further. Too bad for him, Kenny didn't usually need any sort of encouragement to irritate those around him for shits and giggles half of the time.

"On the right hand side of aisle three. It should be next to the hot chocolate," Craig grunted.

"Thanks, dude," Kyle waved at him as another way of saying thanks before departing.

This left Kenny alone and, after a few failing attempts to grab Craig's attention, this left Kenny bored. As a result, he took this as an opportunity to explore what else this gas station had to offer. Without Lyle here, Kenny didn't have to worry about him breathing down his back every second he was in it. Ever since his brother, Kevin, was caught stealing a Snickers bar from the store, Lyle had a grudge against every member of the McCormick family, which, unfortunately, also included Kenny.

There wasn't anything too special about the store. There were both popular and generic brands lining the shelves with an occasional treasure hidden behind all of the beef jerky and bags of candy, such as Pee Cola, Ayds, and Golden Gaytime.

He was so keen on finding another strange food item to try out, he hadn't noticed the man in front of him that was just closing the glass freezer door of the dairy section. As a result, Kenny ran into the man, and would have knocked the person off balance if it were not for the steady hand Kenny gave.

He quickly spouted out an apology to the man he had run in to, taking a few steps back with his arms raised in order to look non-threatening. When his gaze focused on the person in front of him, his hasty apology stopped in mid-sentence.

The man standing before him looked extremely ill. His skin was pasty and his face was drenched with sweat that pooled over the lids of his eyes and the contours of his face, giving him a sickly sheen. There were bags under his eyes and it was clear that he was suffering flu-like symptoms. He breathed solely out of his mouth as mucous slid down from his nose.

What was especially odd was the state of his skin. Blisters lined along his forehead, irritated and angry. His shoulder was encased with what looked like a large bruise, swollen with who knows what. On his cheeks, skin was flaking off and, in some places, was tearing off completely, revealing sore flesh.

The most notable detail, however, was the bandage wrapped loosely around his wrist attached to the hand that was holding onto a milk jug he had just he had just image of Mr. Stotch briefly flashed through his mind, but he shrugged it off seeing as the bandages were the only similarity between the two. Unlike this man, Mr. Stotch wasn't roaming around in an old battered robe looking like he had just risen from the dead.

The man stared blankly at Kenny in response. There was no indication that he even registered what had happened between them. In fact, all the man was doing was repeatedly opening and closing his mouth.

"You okay, man?" Kenny cautiously asked, careful to make some distance between the two of them.

Said man started to walk forward, not even acknowledging that Kenny was obstructing his path. Kenny was forced to move out of the man's way in order to avoid another collision. Kenny watched as he approached Craig and tossed a few bills on the counter before he walked out without exchanging any further interaction.

Craig merely shrugged and stuffed all of it into the register, paying no mind to the excess amount of cash he had just been given. It was almost like he was used to this whole charade.

"What do you think that was all about?" Kyle nudged Kenny's elbow, rousing Kenny out of his churning thoughts.

"I have no idea," Kenny turned towards Kyle, jerking his thumb in the general direction the man headed towards. "Did you at least get a good look at that guy? He looked downright fucked up."

"Not really, no. I was just heading up front when I noticed the guy pay Craig twice of what he owed him. And here I thought the Black family was the only one who could afford to waste a couple of bucks like that," Kyle's brows were furrowed at the strangeness of the situation.

Kenny chuckled to himself in spite of the ordeal. He couldn't help but imagine Cartman cracking some sort of Anti-Semitic joke at Kyle's words. Cartman was right, sometimes people adopted their stereotypes without them realizing it.

Kyle handed Craig their boxful of popcorn without a second thought and, as he rang up the only item they were purchasing, being the nosey-type that he is, Kyle couldn't help but ask him, "Do you know what was up with the previous customer you checked out?"

Craig raised a brow in response to Kyle's question, but otherwise didn't signify any cause for alarm or even that anything was odd about his previous interaction, "Frank Willis? He's been buying milk every few hours since Thursday. Probably delirious from the flu."

"And you're perfectly fine with him not knowing that?" Kyle gave him a look that awfully reminded Kenny of Mrs. Broflovski. He'd have to make a note to tease him about that later.

"Not my problem," Craig shrugged his shoulders with indifference. "That'll be $3.19."

* * *

Has Cartman ever mentioned how much he hated playing SSBB against other people?

With the mechanics of the game and how easy it was to lose track of his character at some points amidst all of the chaos, it was a wonder that no one else thought the whole thing was just stupid. Him losing the past seven rounds had nothing to do with the fact that SSBB wasn't that great of a game. No, seriously.

Stan shouldn't even be allowed to play Ike, and who thought that Butters could do pretty well as Princess Peach. Fucking Peach! Of all of the characters he can choose, of course he would choose the sissiest looking one. He shouldn't even be surprised. What he was surprised about was that Butters was actually good. Cartman should be the one kicking his ass, not the other way around.

Cartman was so focused on finally earning himself a win as Bowser, and bnot/b Metaknight as Stan had suggested he use, that he didn't hear the front door open.

"Got the popcorn," Kyle practically shouted from the front door.

"Awesome, Dude. We're playing your game right now," Stan called out in response.

Cartman's eyes flickered briefly in order to see Kenny and Kyle walk into his living room before he focused them back on the task at hand.

"How many matches have you played so far?" Kyle further inquired as he sat beside Stan on the couch.

"About six or seven. I've won about four of those and Butters won the rest. He's pretty good for a beginner," Stan said just as his character, Ike, was crushed by Bowser's down-b maneuver only for Bowser to be smacked by Peach's side-b attack. Cartman let out a growl of frustration.

Cartman wanted to set them all straight, that Butters wasn't as great as Stan was saying he was and that the only reason why either of them were winning so often, especially Butters, was that they kept using cheap ass moves against him, but the reason he hadn't was because it'd break his concentration. Speaking of breaking concentration, Kenny was whispering something to Butters. Cartman gritted his teeth at the sound. All he wanted to do was finally whoop their sorry asses and prove to them how a victory can be achieved when one uses actual skill rather than cop out moves.

A minute passed by and all that could be heard in the room was frantic button pushing and their characters' war cries as they fought one another, that is, until there was a sudden turn of events in the game. It seemed that Cartman's superiority was finally showing in his gameplay, because one minute Bowser was getting shit on by his opponents and in the next his character was taking out both Ike and Peach like they were nothing.

A wide grin overtook Cartman's face as he blasted their final lives to kingdom come using Bowser's final smash. It was explosive. It was ruthless. It was glorious. It was all Cartman wanted and so much more.

As the screen announced the winner to all of them, Cartman set down his controller on the table and leaned back against the couch with a large smug smile on his face, "And that's how it's done. See what happens when real skill is applied rather than cheap combos?" He turned to Stan in order to give him a condescending grin, "And without using Metaknight."

"Congratulations. So, does that mean we're changing up the players?" Kyle asked curtly, grabbing the fourth and final Wii remote as Kenny took hold of the controller Cartman had just discarded, and properly pissing Cartman off.

Right when a new match started, with Kenny playing as Pit and Kyle playing as Marth, did Cartman choose to respond, "'Ey, who says we're going to continue playing this game?"

"Wait, so we let you win for nothing? Come on dude, I wanted to play a bit longer," Stan complained, but it looked like he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth.

And he should.

This comment made Cartman's blood boil. All of the pride and joy he had previously felt barrelled itself town into the very depths of Hell.

He got off of the couch and approached the outlet that was closest to the TV. He pulled out the cord that was connected to the Wii while he let out a high-pitched, "Oops." With that, he started up the DVD player and sat back down on the couch. "Now that we have all of that bullshit behind us, we can start up the main event."

"You can't just do that Cartman," Kyle interjected as Cartman grabbed a wooden box from underneath the couch.

"Whatever do you mean, Kahl?" Cartman asked innocently, fluttering his lashes for good measure.

"You know very well what you did, fatass," Kyle snapped back, tossing the controller haphazardly onto the table knowing when he'd lost.

"It's not my fault if the Wii decides to just quit on you guys. Besides, aren't you guys more interested in what movie we're watching?" Cartman asked, knowing that if he steered the conversation in a different direction, the others would, more or less, happily go along with the change of events.

"W-what movie are we watchin', Cartman?" Butters began hesitantly and, for good measure, he added, "What's in the box, if ya don't mind me askin'?"

Cartman smirked, jerking his thumb in Butters general direction as he told Kyle triumphantly, "See? The movie succeeds SSBB. End of discussion."

"B-but Cartman, I never said I didn't want ta play still-"

"End of discussion," Cartman reasserted. He then opened the box and began to pull out all of the tools of their trade.

Everyone around him begrudgingly resigned to his authority and began situating themselves more comfortably around the living room as Cartman explained to Butters what he was exactly doing, "This box contains everything we need to begin the main event: the Betting Pool. Essentially, we'll be making predictions based off of these questions Craig gave us." Cartman pulled out an old tattered notebook that had seen better days. He opened it up to the latest written entry. On the top right-hand margin was that Friday's date.

"Each of us will get the chance to write down our predictions. No one is allowed to look until the very end. Whoever gets the most questions wrong will have to pay a price of our choosing. What do you say Butters, you interested or are you too much of a pussy to participate?"

"I ain't a pussy. I-I'm up for anythin' ya throw at me!" Butters replied with a small fire burning in his eyes.

Cartman returned the grin Butters was giving him before looking at the others, "Okay, assholes, get ready to use your brains for once. The movie we'll be watching tonight is a horror movie called 'You're Next.' Craig says that the movie isn't all that special but it'll serve its purpose and it's still enjoyable to watch, so we'll just have to trust him. If there isn't truth to his words, you all know what to do."

Cartman handed out a blank card and a pen that had been inside the box to everyone in the room. "Craig says that we should start making predictions once all of the main characters are at the dinner table for the family get together. All of the characters we need will be introduced by then. There are ten in total. Kinny, read off this week's questions."

Kenny pulled himself off of the floor and grabbed the worn notebook from Cartman's hands. He sat on the couch's armrest and immediately began reading Craig's neat handwriting in his best show host-voice, "Keep these questions in mind guys and get your observation caps on. There'll only be one loser tonight and you sure as hell don't want to be it. Here we go: 'Who will be the first to die? Who will be the most obnoxious? Who will be the most badass? Who will be the last to die? Who will survive, if anyone?' And, finally, whoever is the closest to the right answer of this question will be automatically prevented from losing this whole thing. The question is 'How will the movie end?'"

Stan stood up from the couch and offered his hand to everyone in the middle, "May the best guesser win."

* * *

It was almost surreal walking alongside everyone in the dead of night. The linear rows of street lamps illuminated the group's trek home and acted as their sole source of light. Clouds dusted the sky and a gentle breeze sent a chill through Butters' whole being.

Butters was never allowed out this late, especially when he was with a group of friends. If his parents knew what his Friday night had entailed, he'd be grounded for life and sent to a Gamblers Anonymous meeting as soon as possible.

"I still can't believe you went through with it, dude. I was just joking when I suggested it," Stan chuckled lowly to himself as he admired the consequences of his friend's defeat.

"Well, now you tell me. Oh well, at least it'll be covered up most of the time. I've got to admit, it's kinda growing on my though. Good thing too, because this thing ain't coming off anytime soon... or, well, ever," Kenny shrugged like it was no big deal. Butters couldn't help but admire his indifference, knowing that if he were in the same situation, he wouldn't be reacting the same way at all.

"Seriously, though, you're okay with having the word 'Titties' eloquently written on your inner wrist for the rest of your life?" Kyle asked with his brows raised with curiosity.

After a moment or two of contemplation, stopping in the middle of the road all the while, he presented the tattoo into the limelight and proclaimed proudly, "Sure. Why not? It let's everyone know what I like. Hell, maybe I should add 'Dicks' and 'Ass' to the list, too for good measure."

Butters couldn't help but laugh a bit at that, imagining the ridiculousness of the whole thing. He, too, couldn't help but feel a bit of relief at the notion that Kenny also liked the, er, other parts. "So, what're we doin' next?" Butters asked them all curiously as they stood aimlessly around Kenny. He hoped it wasn't anything too extreme seeing as it was hours past his bedtime anyways (it was about 10 o'clock), and he felt like he could barely stay awake as it is.

"I'm up for another movie," Stan suggested, glancing expectantly in Cartman's direction.

Cartman simply ran his hand through his hair before he finally relented, "Fine."

Butters looked at them nervously. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to risk losing at such a dangerous game again so soon, especially when he was only one question short from losing altogether. His worry must have been easy to read, because Kenny lightly bumped shoulders with him, "Don't worry, Butterscotch. The Betting Pool is only a once a week occurrence. In order to play again you'll have to wait until next week."

Butters smiled at the endearing nickname Kenny occasionally called him.

"Hate to change the subject and all, but, Kenny, isn't that the guy from the Cash and Dash?" Kyle interjected, turning the entire group's attention towards a staggering figure in the distance. Butters couldn't see the man very well due to the poor lighting. It looked like he was holding a jug of milk and was donning a bathrobe. He, too, was unsteadily heading straight towards the group.

"Yeah, you're right. That's Frank Willis," Kenny looked at the guy incredulously. "I'd recognize that dirty bathrobe anywhere."

"Um, guys, I think we should probably get the hell out of here," Stan said, taking a few steps back.

But it was much too late.

A high-pitched shriek sounded from the man as he picked up speed and barreled straight into-

"Kenny!" Butters yelled as his best friend was tackled to the ground.

It was like something out of a nightmare. Kenny's attacker looked twisted and distorted. His eyes were bugged and glazed over with green mucous pouring out of his tear ducts. Chunks of flesh looked like they had been forcefully torn from his skin. His throat looked bulbous and bruised. Contusions raked the rest of his body, as well. The milk the man had been carrying had been dropped carelessly to the ground in preference of using his hands to pin Kenny down as his teeth dove straight into his neck causing blood to spill.

It wasn't long before everyone kicked into high gear as Kenny's terrified "what the fuck"'s and "are you fucking kidding me"'s rang out into the night followed by his attacker's ear-piercing cries. Butters could hear his heartbeat reverberate in his eardrums. He had to think fast. If they did nothing, Kenny could very well die if the man bit him in just the right spot. Kenny was his most important person. Without him, Butters would have nothing.

Without thinking, Butters grabbed hold of the discarded milk jug and proceeded to hit Kenny's attacker with it as Cartman used his incredible strength to try and pry the man off of Kenny with Stan and Kyle trying to pull Kenny away from this monster.

It wasn't until the milk jug actually broke from the sheer force of hitting him that Mr. Willis stopped attacking. Cartman dropped the now unconscious man to the ground without any thought for his safety. Mr. Willis collapsed onto the floor, writhing and twitching on the ground in an ungraceful heap.

By the end of it, Butters was breathing heavily and soaked to the bone with 1% milk. His body hurt slightly from the struggle, but Kenny was now safe. Butters blinked a few times in wonder, finally noticing the sound of a siren blaring in the distance and that all of the lights in the neighborhood were on.

He glanced towards Kenny, who was now standing with the help of Stan. Kyle tore off a part of his white dress shirt and pressed it against the bite wound on Kenny's shoulder in order to try and stop the bleeding and let Kenny take over once he realized what Kyle was doing exactly.

"Guys, we need to get the hell out of here," Cartman said while he gingerly stepped over Mr. Willis. He started inching towards the direction of his house indicating that everyone should follow him.

"Shouldn't we wait for the police?" Stan asked him with a concerned look. "I mean, this was all in self-defense."

"Hate to break it to you, but that can't be easily proven. Willis over here is hurt more than Kenny and people tuned in just as Butters, here, started beating the guy with the milk jug. If anything, we'll be charged for assault if we stay," Cartman reasoned, gesturing for them to follow. "If we leave now, we might be able to avoid all of that bullshit."

Butters felt conflicted, but before he could make a decision, the others had already made theirs and were fleeing the area before anyone was able to identify them. Butters couldn't do much else but follow, "I-I don't know, fellas. This seems like a bad idea."

"Don't be retarded, Butters," Cartman absentmindedly retorted.

Kenny pulled himself away from Stan's side and slowed his pace so that he could allow Butters to catch up with him. Butters glanced down briefly at Kenny's left leg. It seemed that Mr. Willis left Kenny with a slight limp, but nothing that he couldn't easily recover from after a good night's sleep, Butters reckoned.

"Frank Willis will be okay. The police will be bring him to the hospital and get him looked at. You can't really do much damage with a jug of milk. As for you," Kenny grabbed Butters hand in order to pick up their pace. The gesture caused butterflies to flitter in Butters' tummy, "we need to get you out of here before your parents find out what happened. We want you to be able to come next Friday after all." Kenny gave him a wink before turning his attention back to the others.

Their hands never lost their hold of one another until they were all safely back inside Cartman's living room.

"What do we do now?" Kenny asked, wincing when Kyle washed the bite mark with an alcoholic swab. Kyle had insisted that Kenny should get the wound cleaned and dressed using the first-aid kit he found in the pantry. No use risking an infection, Kyle had said. Luckily for Kenny it didn't look deep enough for stitches.

As for Butters, he really needed to get out of these wet clothes.

"Well, Stan did suggest we watch another movie. Cartman, do you have anything in mind?" Kyle asked absentmindedly as he began to clumsily dress Kenny's teeth marks.

"Already on it."

It wasn't long before everyone was comfortably sitting on the couch. The pillows Stan and Kyle had gathered earlier that day surrounded them all. It felt almost as if it were a giant comfy fortress.

At one end of the couch, Kyle and Stan were sharing a blanket. Kyle was nestled into Stan's side while Stan wrapped an around around his shoulders, absentmindedly playing with his red curls. Cartman was in the middle of the group, hoarding most of the pillows. In his arms was a giant bowl of popcorn, now half empty by the time they were about ten minutes into the movie "Iron Sky." Butters was wedged in between Cartman and Kenny. With his Hello Kitty pajamas now on, he had a pillow in his lap and a blanket drawn over most of his body, his was the only thing seen poking out of the folds of the over-sized patchwork quilt. As for Kenny, he was lazily resting against the armrest of the couch with his feet lying on top of Butters' and Cartman's legs.

Butters eyed Kenny curiously. He was acting a little strange.

When they had been watching "You're Next" earlier that night, Kenny had been asking rhetorical questions left and right to the point that Cartman had thrown a pillow or two at Kenny's head to try and get him to stop talking. Butters' always liked this side of Kenny, the side where he was comfortable enough with the people around him to say everything that was on his mind and become much more animate than usual. It was very different from the times when he was in front of a bunch of adults and strangers, almost polar.

But this time, Kenny didn't say much of anything. The others seemed to have noticed it but didn't feel the need to point it out, because they were filling in the void with their own ridiculous questions and comments. Kenny just sat there, fingering the bandage that covered his bitemark and sticking his tongue in between the gap of his two front teeth. Butters reckoned he must be deep in thought about something or other.

Kenny must have noticed that Butters was staring at him, because the next thing Butters knew, Kenny directed a smile his way before ruffling his hair affectionately. Warmth pooled in the pit of Butters' stomach. He couldn't help but return the cheeky grin before getting himself more comfortable and finally be able to focus on the movie. If something was wrong, Kenny would tell Butters right away, right? They were best friends afterall.

Because he was finally able to relax, his sleepiness was finally able to catch up to him. It wasn't long before he found himself drifting off and falling asleep to the sound of a black-turned-white man screaming at Nazis in the background.

* * *

A loud, echoing laugh disrupted the sleep of every remaining dreamer in the room. All memories of strange dreams filled with chaos and nonsense were forgotten within seconds after being woken with a start. For a particular dreamer, nauseousness replaced those dreams, causing bile to rise up in his throat.

With no warning, Kenny scrambled out of his sleeping bag and rushed to the nearest bathroom. As soon as he reached the toilet, he emptied the contents of his stomach, staining the pristine bowl red with Australian licorice. It was a good thing he decided to ditch wearing the scarf last night, otherwise he might not have made it to the toilet in time.

Once he was sure he wouldn't puke his guts out again, he hesitantly pulled himself away from the toilet brim and flushed down the mess he made. Afterwards, he promptly rinsed out his mouth, pausing to look at himself in the mirror. Kenny furrowed his brow with concern at his current state. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was dappled with a thin layer of sweat. He was paler than usual, too, which made his light freckles stand out more than normal. He looked like a wreck. He just hoped that washing his face would help a bit.

All of the junk food last night must not have agreed with him, and, coupled with the fact that most of them stayed up until five in the morning, it was doomed to be a disaster for him in the morning. He didn't even want to think that it had something to do with that bite wound Mr. Willis gave him last night. Last thing he needed was an infection of some kind, especially when his family couldn't afford to treat it. Even if they had any health insurance to cover most of it, which they don't, he'd probably die from the infection anyways-if that was indeed the case. Similar things have happened before.

A soft knock interrupted his worried thoughts, drawing his attention away from the mirror. "K-Kenny, you okay?" A nervous voice called from the other side of the door.

Kenny smiled, quickly wiping the remaining sweat and water from his face with the nearest hand towel before he began to respond, "Yeah, I'm fine, Butters. Probably a little hungover from all of the candy I ate." No need to cause unneeded concern. If he did die, Butters wouldn't remember anyways.

He'd just pretend he felt his usual one-hundred percent. He'd gotten really good at pretending that was the case over the years.

When he opened the door and saw Butters' face, he must not have suppressed his snickers fast enough, because Butters gave him a confused look. "What ya laughin' about? Ya thinkin' bout a joke ya heard before or somethin'?" Butters asked him with innocent blue eyes.

Okay, so Kenny felt a little guilty for what their group had done to Butters and he knew Butters would not be happy with him at all, but it wasn't enough to stop him from giving in and just laughing his ass off. His response seemed to just confuse Butters even more. He must have realized, though, that Kenny started laughing whenever he looked at Butters' face, because he poked his cheek experimentally, unknowingly smearing their handiwork even more, which immediately sent Kenny into another fit of shits and giggles. Butters huffed out with a mixture of annoyance and offense, "A-am I makin' a funny face? 'Cause ya know how much my parents don't like me makin' funny faces, and ya promised ya would let me know if I ever-"

Kenny quickly held out his hands in protest at the accusation and stopped Butters mid-sentence before he could head even further towards the wrong conclusion, guilt finally snaring around him like a vice, "No, it's nothing like that!"

"Then what is it? W-what are ya laughin' about, mister?" Butters asked him accusingly, poking his index finger into Kenny's chest in order to emphasize the seriousness of his words.

In order to save his breath, knowing that if he tried to explain why he was laughing there was always the possibility that Butters could misinterpret what he was trying to tell him, he lightly tugged the collar of his pajamas and pulled him in front of the mirror to show him himself.

Kenny couldn't help but play it up, waving his hands behind Butters head like he was presenting some masterpiece, all the while saying, "Tada!"

Butters didn't look as amused. His face had briefly adopted a surprised 'o' face before it gave into a slight frown. He leaned closer towards the mirror and delicately touched the added features drawn on his face while asking, "Gee willickers, w-what happened?"

Kenny rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, careful to avoid the bandage, knowing that Butters wasn't talking about how the crude drawings and random designs got on his face, but why. "I'll tell you only if you don't get mad at me."

Butters was silent for a moment, his mouth now a firm line as he thought it over. Kenny waited for his response with unease. Then Butters body seemed to fold in on itself a bit when he let out a long breath before murmuring, "I don't think I could ever get mad at ya, Kenny, or at least real mad."

Kenny gave him a soft smile before taking a breath and continuing with what he wanted to tell him, "I sorta didn't tell you about the last rule we have: rule five. This one is pretty complex and has some pretty damning consequences…" He trailed off a bit.

"K-Kenny, what did you get me into?" Butters looked legitimately scared at this point.

Okay, maybe Kenny shouldn't have begun it with the whole 'damning consequences' detail, but it's still something important to note. It was time to backtrack it a bit, "But rule five is still pretty harmless when you look at the big picture! There are boundaries in place that make sure of it. Trust me, everyone's had to deal with rule number five at least once, and I made sure everyone used washable marker instead of the usual permanent marker, this time."

Kenny tried to justify his reasoning to the best of his ability, of course leaving out out the fact that everyone bribed him to not warn Butters about it (it took quite a bit for him to give in), but it seemed to be of no use because Butters still looked pretty peeved about the whole thing. The poorly drawn dick on his face became distorted because of the stern expression he adopted.

Kenny briefly wondered if Butters would feel less targeted if he told him about the time the group gave Cartman a black face using permanent marker back in middle school. They all knew that Cartman was supposed to meet Wendy at the mall later that day to work on a group project, and, after Cartman decided to drench them all with a super soaker filled with deer piss, they had to get him back somehow. To their amusement, they later heard that Token happened to be with her and apparently they were pissed beyond belief at how 'insensitive' Cartman was. They didn't believe him when he said it was Kyle, Stan, and Kenny's fault, which was actually true for once. Cartman didn't speak to Kenny or the rest of the gang for a week after that.

"W-what's the rule exactly?"

"Whoever falls asleep first gets their face drawn on by everyone else-"

"Well, that doesn't seem so bad…"

"There's, um, there's a lot more to it than just that," Kenny gave him a guilty smile as they headed back towards the living room. "Rule number five states that the first person to fall asleep gets their face drawn on by everyone else. They also owe everyone one request that they can't say 'no' to, but, like I said before, there are boundaries set up. We can't make anyone do something that can fuck them up."

"So, what about the other fellas? What can't they do?" Butters looked at him curiously, but seemed a bit hesitant. No doubt wondering if he was being too nosy, which he wasn't.

Kenny counted off each finger as he named off each restriction, "You're not allowed to request Stan to drink alcohol. Kyle can't be put into a diabetic coma by forcing him to eat a ton of sugary shit or not allow him to take his insulin. I can't be forced to pay you or anyone what I can't afford. Cartman can't do anything awful that's related to his mom. Like I said before, the whole thing's pretty harmless once you look at the big picture."

Butters seemed to have calmed down a bit after that bit of information was given to him and the frown that had accompanied him for the past several minutes finally disappeared completely, much to Kenny's relief. Unfortunately, it came back once they walked into the living room and Cartman got a good look at Butters face and started laughing just as loud and obnoxious as he did this morning. It got on Kenny's nerves a bit.

Butters scowled and walked out of the room and into the kitchen saying, "I'm going ta wash this mess off my face."

"Oh, come on. You look great!" Cartman called out after him in between his uncontrollable fits of laughter. When Butters was no longer within view, he turned to Kenny in order to add, "I knew we should have used permanent marker, but you just had to spoil the fun."

"It's either that or having him never come to another one of these. I know you don't care either way, but I have needs, dude," Kenny playfully smacked Cartman's shoulder when saying the comment. He took a second to glance around the room and asked, "Hey, where's Kyle and Stan? They in one of your closets about to fuck, again?"

Cartman seemed to turn a bit green at the memory, seeing as he was the one who had caught them with their tongues practically down their throats (kinky). He scowled, "The Jew and his bitch are in the kitchen eating breakfast and Kahl's getting his insulin shot or some shit."

Kenny nodded, wishing he could just waltz his way into the kitchen and join them, but it wasn't worth getting tackled to the ground by fatass over here. Besides, he wasn't quite sure he could handle eating anything right now anyways.

"'Ey, Kinny, you want to pay off your debt, right?"

That caught Kenny's attention. He stared at Cartman for a long time and eventually responded with, "A McCormick always pays their debts."

"Great! Then you won't say 'no' when I ask you to help me out with something this afternoon. At 12:30, be sure to meet me at South Park High. If you do this, I'll pretend you never broke the microwave in the first place," Cartman smiled a smile that sent chills up Kenny's spine. What mess did he get into now?

But if he looked on the bright side, "Does this mean I'm allowed to go back into the kitchen?"

"I'll think about it." Cartman was probably just trying to get his hopes up. The cocktease.

"I got most of the marker off, but one of the wieners drawn on my face just doesn't seem ta want ta get off. You fellas did use washable marker, right?" Butters walked in, wiping a particular spot vigorously with a towel.

Kenny quickly looked towards Cartman with narrowed eyes. His best friend was staring at the ceiling with his arms behind his back, whistling innocently. Fatass probably did it when Kenny wasn't looking.

"Aw shucks, ya did, didn't ya?" Butters sighed with resignation. It didn't seem like he was blaming anyone in particular, just disappointed that it happened in general. "My parents aren't going ta be too pleased with this.

"We could try putting a bandaid over it before you leave," Kyle suggested as he and Stan appeared in the living room.

"When are you supposed to head home, anyways?" Stan asked with some curiosity as he began to change out of his pajamas and back into the clothes he was wearing yesterday, much to Kyle's distaste.

Butters eyes got really wide at that. It looked like his whole world had shattered before him. "Oh, jeez, I totally forgot ta check my phone! I'm goin' be in so much trouble!" He scrambled towards his messenger bag, abandoning the towel in the process, revealing that, yes, he still had a dick on his face, and dug into its pockets. He pulled out his iPhone and scrolled through his messages, a look of brief relief flittered across his face for just a moment.

"What's up?" Kenny couldn't help but ask as he walked up to Butters' side.

"It looks like I missed a few texts and a call or two, but it doesn't look like they're real angry. Just disappointed."

He showed Kenny one of the texts his dad had sent him: _I'd really appreciate it if you picked up the phone once in your life, but we understand that you're having fun. Boys will be boys. Don't get into trouble now or we'll know._

Kenny didn't know what to think of it.

"The last text mom sent me was a bit of a doozy. Turns out dad got sick last night, so we'll have ta take care of him until he's in tip top shape again, y'know? Mom wants me home by ten and it's 9:45, so I don't have any time to dilly-dally," Butters explained as he packed what little he took out. He didn't bother changing into his actual clothes. He turned towards the others just as he finished packing all of his things, and with a soft smile Butters said, "Thanks so much for invitin' me, fellas. I had a really good time! Next Friday I'll be sure to bake everyone something myself and I'll even bring a movie or a game or two if ya want."

"No problem, dude. Can't wait," Stan smirked.

"You'll have to let us know how it goes with your parents," Kyle said just as he got out of the kitchen, handing Butters a band-aid before he could forget it./p

"Gee, thanks, Kyle," Butters' smile grew in size.

Out of instinct, Kenny grabbed the band-aid from Butters' hand before Butters knew what hit him. He opened its wrapper and placed it precariously over the dick so that it didn't show any of it. "There, you're good as gold now," Kenny smiled, clapping Butters on the back. "Don't forget to tell us about where you draw the line for rule number 5 on Monday."

Butters cheeks were slightly flushed, but he nodded. "I won't. Oh, and I'll call Cartman or someone that can get ahold of ya ta let ya know whether or not I can tutor ya tomorrow. It really depends on how my dad's feelin'. Hopefully it'll be okay, because we need ta brush you up on your English, mister."

Kenny nodded, "Sounds good."

As Butters left Cartman's house with a cheerful wave and headed a couple of houses down the road to his house, Kenny couldn't help but think back on Mr. Willis and Mr. Stotch's bandaged hand, hell, even his own bitten neck and the nauseousness he felt today. He hoped it was all a coincidence. That something wasn't rotten in South Park.

But with South Park, you never knew.

* * *

Kenny shouldn't have broken that microwave. He regretted it ever since the damn thing had short-circuited and had set him and the microwave on fire, killing him in the process. It hadn't been one of his favourite Fridays.

Kenny had the tendency to not think things through. It might have been ingrained in him due to his immortality or through genetics, seeing as his dad certainly hadn't thought hard about consequences. Unlike Kenny, when his dad died, there was no resurrection. Once dead, Kenny's dad stayed dead.

Although that had helped Kenny think more about the future, it still hadn't stopped him from destroying Cartman's microwave. Why did mac and cheese have to take twenty minutes to cook anyways? He heard from Cartman later that his mac and cheese had cooked faster using his method, but the taste wasn't worth the damages done.

Which was why he was currently on the roof of South Park High in order to earn money to pay off the microwave. How? By jumping from the main school building onto the detached gymnasium using his skateboard. It was all Cartman's idea. With only a small fee of $5, the people of South Park got to see Kenny do something stupid, again.

He couldn't blame them, really. It'd been months since South Park had experienced anything, well, exciting, by South Park's standards, to bide people's time. They were bound to come check this out. Kenny, himself, wasn't all too nervous about making the jump from building to building. He'd done it once before as the elusive Mysterion, after all. He did, however, still feel a bit under the weather, and he wasn't sure how that would affect his skateboarding abilities.

"Come on, Kinny! We don't have all day!" Cartman shouted from the school's parking lot, a decent sized crowd surrounding him. They were all staring at the orange-clad figure with a mixture of anticipation and boredom.

Kenny let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Although he knew that there wouldn't be many consequences if he were to miss, he still felt like he should take the time to think and ask himself what he was doing with his life. Anything to distract himself with the fact that if he missed, it'd still hurt like a bitch when he would die and not the good kind of hurt.

He tightened the strings of his hoodie and stared up at the hastily built ramp with a look of determination gleaming in his eyes. He began to skate towards the ramp. The wind that whipped past him sent thrills up his spine and, with his worries and state of health forgotten, a large, giddy grin overtook his hidden features.

With the speed he was currently going and the angle he was quickly approaching the ramp with, there was no doubt in his mind that he was going to make it safely across. The taste of adrenaline further increased his revived mood. Paying off his debt would be easier than he had thought it would be.

But that feeling didn't last long.

Just as he was approaching the last few feet towards the ramp, something, or should he say, someone manifested itself right in front of his incoming path. Kenny's reflexes kicked in and he swerved just in time to avoid colliding with whoever it was all the while turning his head to get a good look at whoever completely tarnished his A-game.

"You," Kenny said smartly right when his board missed the ramp completely, hitting the edge of the rooftop instead. His body vaulted backwards off of the building. His last memory of that moment had been the triumphant smirk of Damien Thorn before he broke his neck on the parking lot pavement and died.

* * *

_AN: If anyone's interested, the music artists I listened to while writing most of this are Locust Toybox, Boards of Canada, and Moshimoss (all of which can be found on Spotify)._

_As for Chapter 3, I've written a few paragraphs so far. The character POV's won't solely be Cartman's gang and there's going to be a lot going on throughout the town, so that'll be fun to write._


End file.
